Keep Running
by HarpD
Summary: Parker and Jarod find a similar purpose in a child, but even as they set about rescuing him from the clutches of the Centre, they realise they can't escape from the connection that seems to bind them together. NEW Chapter 13 AND 14 IS UP!
1. Keep Running

Disclaimer: He he. Almost forgot to do this. Ahem, All characters and events in this story are purely fictitious, therefore, all and any similarity to a real person, living or dead is entirely coincidental and unintended by she wrote this. Absolutely no connection to anyone involved in the TV show, especially since they had the bright idea to end the show as they did. Heh.

His body covered hers, enveloping her in the long-lost warmth that only a man's body could bring, his lips seeking along her neck while she ran her hands over the steely contours of his back. She arched upwards as his lips moved downwards and his hands guided her hips as she began to move sinuously against him. Her eyes drifting shut, she whispered his name..

"Jarod."

Miss Parker jerked awake, sitting up in her bed, her dark maroon bedspread clutched in her fists and her breath sawing through her lungs. Dimly, the incessant ringing began to filter and she threw her hand towards the side-table, groping for the cordless phone she had left there after leaving Broots a message about the meeting she had arranged early the next day..well, today now.

"What?"

"Ah, Miss Parker, lifeless as always. If nothing else, you bring a certain order to the universe."

"Why don't you tell me that face to face and I will show you how I would bring a certain order to MY universe." Running a hand through her hair, Miss Parker kicked off the sheets and got out of bed.

"Now, now. Let's at least be done with the pleasantries before we resume with our usual threats."

Sinking onto the window seat, Parker drew her knees to her chest and let out a small sigh.

"What do you want, Jarod? Is tonight 'Go-Fish' for Miss Parker's conscience or are we going to take another of your delightful trips down memory lane?" Reaching for the pack of cigarettes she had left on the windowsill, a picture of Mr-Wheeze-himself came to her mind and her longing faltered.

"Don't," was softly said, a whisper between confidantes, or lovers..Miss Parker knew that

Jarod's attention was now solely focused on her, he wasn't puttering away at another of his projects or watching a DSA in the background, she could practically feel him sitting in the dark, brown eyes gazing into the shadows as he devoted his time to her. Most of all, Miss Parker remembered how during college she had missed that, how even now she knew that no one had ever cared as much, even as misplaced as his compassion was.

"Don't what, Pez-boy?"

"Don't light up, each time you do I feel like I am losing a little more of that little girl I once knew. The little girl who would sneak away to feed the rabbits, who cared enough for a scared little boy named Angelo even in the midst of her own grieve to try to get him to leave a vent and be among those who wouldn't hurt him as Raines once did." Jarod spoke this with emotion, his throat closing with the sorrow he felt as his heart melting at the memory of the only girl he had loved.

"I have told you a million times, Jarod, that girl is gone."

"She isn't. Leaving The Centre would give her a chance. Why won't you do that?" He asked that question every time he called, if only to maintain a link, a thread of hope to that little girl.

"You escaped to search your family, Jarod. You preach to me the importance of family and yet you would ask me to leave my own, to dismiss them so uncaringly?"

Jarod lunged off the bed, angry and frustrated, pacing across his latest lair.

"Sydney and Broots, they are your family. And the only reason they have not left is because of you. Raines and Lyle are not worthy to call you family and we both know that"

Parker sighed, laying her head in the vee made between her knees, a vice clutching at her heart as she tried to banish the tears, the pain and most of all, the desire to give in, to tell him what he wanted to hear, if only to feel clean again after all these time.

"Miss Parker, are you there?"

She kept silent, listening to the tone, the cadence and most of all the love in his voice.

"Parker, please.."

Covering a moan with the palm of her hand, Miss Parker swallowed hard before laying her head against the wall behind her, steeling her heart and more importantly her soul against his plea.

"Keep running Jarod. My hell is nothing compared to what they would put you through. I will be a step behind." Not giving him a chance to respond, Miss Parker pressed the 'end' button, the moonlight gleaming off her dark red nails and eyes gleaming with pooled tears.

"Keep running."


	2. Falling For Him

Disclaimer: Look to Chapter 1..

Note: Somehow my computer decided to delete the first chapter and its reviews, but rest assured all is well now and I did get your reviews which I just squealed over. Ok, not squealed, just moderate expressions of happiness…really.

_Actually, this story was just supposed to be a one-shot but I just have so many ideas buzzing around in my head that I have decided to extend the story line. Thanks go out to all that have reviewed so far, I actually didn't expect much but all your beautiful reviews also served as a potent inspiration.. Just so you know, I am a sucker for romantic suspense, so Jarod shall be playing hero and Parker will play the reluctant but ultimately spectacular heroine who completes him. As you can see, I'm really very easy to predict..on to the next chapter!_

_

* * *

_

"Get him!" Parker yelled at Sam as she slammed the driver door of her dark sedan and sprinted after the quickly disappearing silhouette of the pretender himself. Her slim legs encased in black covered the ground between them quickly but as they were in another of Jarod's abandoned warehouse districts, Parker knew that he had already mapped out an escape route, familiar with every nook and cranny of the surroundings even before he had placed his DSA case on the floor of his latest lair. Twenty minutes of searching and all Miss Parker had to show for it was the sweat on the nape of her neck, running down between in her shoulder blades and the hitch in her side.

_Damn you, Jarod. I said keep running, but I think I forgot to mention a limit didn't I?_

"I believe he has gotten away, Miss Parker."

Parker spun to face Sydney, glaring as she ground out, "Don't sound so upset, Freud, I might actually begin to believe you _want_ Jarod back."

"Miss Parker, over here," Sam's call rang over the damp concrete that surrounded them. Moving quickly, her heels ringing sharply off brick and the lapels of her dark brown leather jacket flapping against her back, she moved towards the corner where Sam stood.

His craggy face expressionless, he pointed to the ground. Following his gaze, Miss Parker grimaced. She was going to get her leather suit dirty. And it was new.

Shooting a glance at the good doctor she minced out "You created him, so after you, Sydney." She stepped back, giving Sydney a clear view of the open man-hole that led to the underground sewer system. Looking back at Parker, Sydney grimaced at her grin; when she showed her teeth like that, he could actually give credence to the rumorsof her parentage belonging to Raines.

* * *

Ignoring the hand Sam offered her, Parker bent forward and stretched her leg to hit the first rung of the ladder that led down. Trying to avoid the dank and muddy walls that surrounded her she gingerly took the next step down. Moving a little more quickly after that, she was not prepared for the loud ringing that emanated from her cell and even as she missed the next step, she cursed Broots timing.

Last she heard was Sydney's yell of "Parker!" and her own scream as she fell the remaining 10 steps of the sewer ladder. The sickening crack of her scull against the side of one of the concrete tunnels leading away from the ladder ended all thought.

* * *

"Parker, Parker, can you hear me!"

"Parker!"

Groaning softly, Miss Parker felt shooting pains from her shins to her skull. Trying to lift her head did not help so she decided to just stay still till she could get her hand on her gun to lift it to her skull and put herself out of her own misery. Feeling for her gun with her right hand, she felt only cold and sticky dampness. _Damn. So much for that plan.  
_

"Sam, get some help. I'll stay with her here."

"Yes, sir"

Parker felt light hit the back of her eyelids sharply as Sam pushed himself off the opening of the man-hole and went for the car-phone. Turning her head to the side only caused an explosion of red-hot pain and the bottom to drop out of her stomach. Fighting the overwhelming feeling of nausea, she graoned, "Water."

"Parker?"

"Water, Sydney."

"Can you open your eyes?"

"_WATER NOW!"_

Resting on his haunches at the bottom of the man hole, Sydney pushed himself back from Parker, an expression of dark bemusement on his face.

"I think I have some in the trunk, just stay right here and I will be back soon."

"Oh, yeah. Like I am going to get up to take a nice walk in the meantime. Move it, Freud."

As Sydney climbed up, Parker began to gingerly push herself off the ground to lean back against the dirty wall behind her. The nausea was only getting worse and her hand shot to cover her mouth, gagging as the smell and the pain once again made itself blatantly known.

"Hello, Miss Parker."

* * *

"Jarod!" her head swung in the direction his voice had come from.

"Oh, that was definitely not a good idea," Parker groaned, her left hand pressed to the back of her aching skull as the bottom fell out of her stomach again and she levied herself to the side with her right hand so she hovered over the drain. The contents of her breakfast were measly at best, and the cramping in her stomach made her want to slam a fist into her ulcer if she could.

And Jarod was watching.

Actually, Jarod had been watching for a while. Her scream had stopped him dead in his tracks, bringing back painful memories that held him in a vice grip, clutching as his heart and soul. Very little could have stopped him from turning back then and sprinting towards the direction her blood-chilling scream had come from. He did spare a thought for Sydney and Sam and how much danger he was needlessly putting himself into but when it came to Parker, his brain could do only so much before his heart would ballot in the deciding vote.

Watching her now as she was at her weakest, he remembered the fear he had felt when a few weeks back he had watched through her window and saw her in a fetal position on her bed, the ulcer worse than ever. It was those moments, when she allowed herself to be human that he knew would always force him to be tied to her.

"Parker," he whispered, crouching down behind her, hearing Sydney's footsteps fade away and knowing it would be a while before they returned from the car they had parked a great deal of distance away. Feeling the cold shudders that racked her slim frame, he shrugged off his leader jacket, placing it carefully on her hunched shoulders as she emptied her stomach of all and any contents it once had. _She's still skipping breakfast.._

Resting his hand on her back as she took a breather he whispered again, "Parker."

"What!"

He grinned, if nothing else she had not lost her spirit.

"What happened?"

"You're the genius; at least that's what they tell me although I have always had my doubts. So you tell me." Resting back against the wall, her voice was weary but her eyes were the beautiful maelstrom of colours and emotions he dreamed of. Although they usually rested amidst satin sheets and sweaty limbs.._whoa, down boy._

Looking back at the ladder behind them, he remarked, " Did those high heels finally give out? Did you fall Miss Parker?"

"Give the boy a lollipop", bringing the palm that rested on the back of her skull gingerly forward, she stared dumbly at the dark red smear, a brand upon her pale skin.

"Dammit, Parker," Jarod ground out as he moved closer to her, gently clasping her hand and using the edge of his shirt to smooth away the blood, as if that one movement he could banish the ready source of her bleeding, the deep scars that already branded her. _I never wanted you hurt Parker, never._

"Hey, watch it Pez-Head," she grimaced as he pushed her gently forward to get a look at the back of he head. Her nose was dangerously close to his chest, the white silk shirt he wore doing little to hide the strong steely contours and the musky scent that she only associated with Jarod. Her right hand hovered over his chest, but as he applied some pressure to her head wound, she let out a yelp and unthinkingly gave into the urge to rest her hand forward. The pulsing beneath her hand set off a corresponding beat within her and the stillness that emanated from Jarod at that exact moment registered.

As he felt her rest against him, Jarod could not help but freeze and savour the emotions it evoked within him. The tenderness, compassion and even sexual attraction was undeniable and he closed his eyes as his head fell forward slowly to rest his lips upon her hair.

The tender pressure she felt on the back of her head brought slow tears to her eyes and felt like a brand on her soul. But as he levied back and she brought her head up to look upwards into his eyes, she brought her hand off her chest and the stark maroon smear gave her pause. It lay right over his heart, and blasted all thought from her mind. Even as she felt Jarod's lips falling to hers she whispered a tremulous, _"No."_

_Yes, yes, was definitely feeling a little of the angst there. I like where this story is going, I need to tweak the plot a little and let the conspiratist in me breathe..please review!_

_What memories were Jarod referring to..well keep reading..oh, wait, that means i have to update..bites nail nervously and knock side of head..will soon don't worry.. _


	3. The Boy in her Room

_Author's Note: What is it about reviews that gets my fingers twitching? Lol, Thank you all for your beautiful comments, good and bad, mostly good so most of you do not need to fear, I have placed the machete back in its drawer. For those who begged (for shame!) here's the next chapter..enjoy! ( pops mint chocolate into mouth and sits back with sigh of satisfaction)_

_By the way, the Asian floozie thing is fiction, fiction I tell you. I'm Asian actually so I would be literally insulting myself as well…heh._

Disclaimer: Chapt 1 (notice how this is getting smaller..)

Keep Running Chapter 3

The Boy in her Room

"No, Jarod." Miss Parker pushed him roughly away, forcing him to place his hands instinctively behind him as the momentum threw him backwards. _Men I care about only get hurt, Jarod.._

She watched as his eyes cleared, became stony and dark, and for a moment she wanted to reach out and touch him, to bring back the puppy-dog looks he once mastered. _Get a grip, Parker…_

"Of course, what was I thinking? You only give kisses to little boys when you feel like an experiment will complete your day." Brushing himself off as he stood, Jarod's lips twisted bitterly as he looked down at Miss Parker.

"Why are you complaining, lab-rat? I didn't hear any protests at the time," using the handkerchief he had used to apply pressure to the wound, Miss Parker noticed the bleeding had all but disappeared.

"It's a surface laceration, the only thing to worry about is a concussion. I would suggest getting checked up by your local doctor and staying with someone for the night who can check your sleeping pattern, that souldn't be difficult for you" picking up his leather jacket off Parker's shoulders, their eyes catching for an instant as he bend over her, he continued, "And don't mix the pills with scotch Parker; no one else can make me run like you do." Shrugging the clothing on, he caught the snarl that she threw in his direction, returning a small smirk.

Miss Parker watched as he sank into the darkness of the tunnel, his boots resounding softly in the pitch black hollowness, her eyes unable to draw away from his disappearing back. Her head falling back while her gaze remained fixed on that spot she forgot about her head wound and felt pain shoot through her skull.

"Dammit!" she yelled, instinctively drawing forward, her gaze lighting on a dark object a few metres away from her.

Her gun.

"Dammit!" she yelled again. Watching as a shadow fell over the man-hole she heard Sydney call for her.

"Parker!"

"What!"

* * *

When Miss Parker returned to the Centre the following day, she knew within minutes that most of the staff had become aware of the little incident that had occurred between her and the damn manhole. She faced them head-on, forcing most to look away, their faces colouring. Broots saw her from a distance, her demeanor even from yards away causing him to instantly turn tail and scurry back to his office. 

"Hey, sis."

Groaning inwardly, Parker continued forward, "What do you want, Lyle?"

"What, can't I show some brotherly compassion for my wounded sister?" Catching up to her, his hands tucked in the pockets of his slick new Armani, he kept pace with her long strides.

"Not if you want to join me. Oh wait, you're already crippled." Sticking her thumb in the air, she turned the corner that led to her office swiftly. As she did, she noticed four burly sweepers dash past her, their faces determined and carrying Centre-issued handguns at the ready. Pausing mid-step, she faced Lyle.

"What are you up to?"

"What are you talking about, Miss Parker?"

"The sweepers, Lyle. They're yours, and they look to be in a hell of a hurry. Which can mean only one thing; that you screwed up on one of 'Daddy's' projects, which isn't a damn surprise but I need a good laugh today so why don't you fill me in?" Her eyes wide, she stepped close, crowding the thirty year old man, giving him one of her Parker-trademark grins.

"They're just doing a little recon, keeping the employees on their toes. Which you're supposed to be doing for Jarod but we all know how that went, don't we?." Smiling gleefully, Lyle stepped back from her gingerly.

"Look, your Asian floozie. Isn't it lunch?" Lyle's attention distracted she turned to enter her office, kicking it closed in his face.

Sighing as she sat at her desk, she reached into her drawer for her stomach syrup, the pink concoction calling to her. As the phone rang, she picked it up only to slam it down again. They could wait. Humming softly in longing, she poured a cap-full and brought it to her lips.

It was then that Miss Parker noticed the four-year old squeezed tight underneath her desk, his arms clutching his drawn knees as he gazed up at her, his eyes wide with fear and apprehension. She yelped, splashing the syrup over her green marine blouse as she pushed back quickly from her desk. Jumping up, her hands akimbo as she viewed the destruction, she stared back at the little boy.

Tear tracks shone on plump but pale cheeks. Dark brown hair cropped close to his head, this and the grey Centre-issued overalls made it obvious who or what he was. Noticing the shudders that had begun to wrack his small frame she bent down to his eye level, one hand reaching out instinctively as she got an image of a young Debbie in her mind.

"Parker!"

She jerked as she saw Lyle in her doorway, sweepers coming up the rear. His eyes were fixed on her with intensity, gleaming with pleasure as he noticed where her attention had been at.

"Were you holding out on us, Miss Parker?" Walking forward, he signaled for the sweepers to head for the child. Miss Parker watched silently as they bent down and pulled the boy out roughly, his struggles tugging at a long-lost chord inside of her even as she steeled herself to face Lyle.

"So you did screw up Lyle? Imagine that." Grinning as she reached for a towel hanging from the small sink at a nook in her office to clean herself with she kept her eyes on the slim man even as she heard the screams of the small child and could see his valiant struggles from the corner of her eye.

At that moment Lyle's cell began to ring. Giving her a last lingering look, as if trying to gauge her reaction to the boy, he sauntered out of her office with a curt "Mr Lyle" in his wake.

Miss Parker sat back down at her desk, trying to banish the images, the picture of the small boy with only fear and tears to speak for him. Another successful product of the Centre's machinations. She grimaced as she saw her reflection in the glass pane that lay on her desk, the same eyes of the small boy staring back at her from within.

"_Give the little girl a chance, Parker."_ Jarod's voice whispered within her memories.


	4. Words of Wisdom

Disclaimer: Look to Chapt 1

_Author's Note: Believe it or not, I am getting quite drunk from all the lovely reviews, feel a little evil actually. Mwahahaha! Ahem, anyway, a little side note for dolphin18paradise; there will definitely be some MPJR soon, it's pretty much the reason I am writing fanfic for pretender at all heh. If only we were allowed more than two genre choices – it would be drama, angst, action/ adventure, romance, mystery..lol.._

_Annnnyyyway, here's the next installment..hope you like it!_

Chapter 4 ( 4! And this was supposed to be a one-shot! Lol)

Words of Wisdom

"_She was sick Jarod. My mother was really sick."_

His eyes intent on the screen in front of him , the camera angle focusing on the proud and stubborn expression on a younger Miss Parker's face as they both stood in front of the vent in which Angelo lay watching, Jarod saw the pain in her eyes, the grief that she kept in like a good Parker should.

His head bent forward, his face drawn and outlined by the dying sunlight that streamed in from the blinds of his empty penthouse paid for with Centre resources, his stillness spoke to the memories, the past emotions that overtook him. To be so fractured between the familiarity of the past and the pressing need to despise the life he had been forced to lead.

A beep from the computer alerting him to a new email brought his attention back to the present, his hand reaching out quickly to press the respective buttons, allowing him access into his inbox. The screen flashed away from the grainy, black and white picture of the DSAs to a clear document with a short stream of words.

"Angelo." Jarod muttered, scanning the words quickly.

Frowning, he read the words aloud, perplexed, "Daughter, Father, Brother, Son, Mother, Sister, Parents, Child, Down, Up."

Pushing his chair back from the table, Jarod swiveled, adjusting himself into the position that would allow him to look out the large windows that ran along one side of the penthouse, his gaze pensive, his head resting on a closed fist supported by his armrest. His thoughts running through the possibilities as he would in preparation for a SIM, he rapidly came to a decision to speak to his old friend in person. He felt in his gut that this message spoke of a change in the centre, a change that Jarod would want to keep his eye on as he always did.

* * *

Parker tossed the files that she had brought home with her on her living room desk, closing her wooden door behind her before moving towards her liquor cabinet at the corner. Quickly putting together her favourite tonic, she moved to the sofa, pulling the first file open, and perched on the edge of her sofa even as she took a quick sip.

"Mumphf!"

Her instincts jerking her head up, she started to scan her dark house, her ears alert to the sound that had attracted her attention in the first place. A small rustle of paper, a cupboard opening and closing followed by more rustling, the second time with a lot more vigor, all from the direction of Miss Parker's kitchen.

Reaching behind her for her handgun, her eyes fixed on the doorway that led to her kitchen, she rose slowly from her sofa, the short dark hair framing her face barely shifting as she did so. Moving with the stealth and caution that she had been trained with, both hands held her gun directly in front of her, her right elbow crooked slightly to afford her leverage, her head cocked to a side slightly even as her feet pressed soundlessly on her carpet with each step.

Pausing for barely an instant by the doorway, she whipped around the corner, her hair flying, the steely determination and conviction apparent in her stormy eyes. Punching the switch of the light she yelled, "Hold it!"

The dark figure that had been standing by her fridge, his body cowed and hunched over, froze at her yell, looking up at her with such a look of terror on his face even as his fists crushed a multi-coloured snack box he clutched to his chest.

"Angelo!" Miss Parker exclaimed, allowing her hands to fall and her gun to point towards the floor, her exasperation obvious in her stance.

Noticing the oblivious look he was giving her, Miss Parker lowered her voice as she spoke to him this time, "Angelo, what are you doing out of the centre? At my house? Do you know how much trouble you could be in?"

Leaning down to pick up another box of Cracker-Jacks he had been munching from, she passed it back into his hands, smiling softly at the huge smile that he rewarded her with. Staring at him, images of the DSA she had watched that had held the moments after the shock-therapy Raines had subjected him to, and memories of the moments she had spent trying to coax him out of seclusion pressed like a deadweight into her chest, overwhelming her with pity and sadness.

Placing her hands gently on his shoulders, Miss Parker led him to a kitchen chair. Her touch tender and her tone soothing, she began again. "Angelo, why are you here?" she asked, the huskiness of her voice a testament to the emotions that foughte for supremacy within Parker

Miss Parker knew that anyone listening to her know would be shocked to see this side of her but Angelo was a defenseless creature that had deserved none of the horrors that had been visited upon him at such a young age. And recently, Parker had begun to feel herself softening towards those she worked with closely at the Centre; accepting the kindness of Broots and the fatherly advice of Sydney.

However, her pride forestalling her as it always had, she could never bring herself to admit openly that not only had Thomas shown her a side of herself that she had grown to love, recently she began to long for that self-respect, for that sense of ease and hope in her life to return tp her.

"Daughter, Father, Brother, Son, Mother, Sister, Parents, Child, Down, Up," Angelo perked up, his voice loud but the words broken even as his hand dug into the box to bring another fistful to his mouth, his lips closing around the little crackers with child-like enjoyment.

Miss Parker jerked, looking down at him from where she was standing. She had been reaching up to place her gun on the top of the fridge to keep it away from Angelo, but had stilled at his voice, the odd succession of words confusing her. Moving towards the kitchen table where he sat, she yanked a chair such that it faced him and took her seat, her beige leather suit pants rustling slightly at the movement.

Angelo's head was down, his hands hugging the small box to his chest, his attention solely focused on ripping open the 'surprise', but the way he angled his head to the right told Parker that he registered her movement, knew exactly what she was doing.

"Angelo," she began, her eyes resting on his bent head, but her voice demanding his obeisance, "Can you say that again?"

"Angelo," she queried again when he didn't respond, drawing out the name in her quiet plea.

"He said, 'Daughter, Father, Brother, Son, Mother, Sister, Parents, Child, Down, Up'"

Miss Parker's head had spun to follow the direction from which the voice had come from, rising swiftly from her seat even before he had finished speaking, and already mentally calculating the distance from herself to her gun. She cursed her negligence, knowing that Angelo's surprised visit had thrown her off.

_Or are you losing your edge, Parker?_

Standing in the doorway, his frame illuminated by the moonlight that streamed through the stained glass pane on Miss Parker's front door, Jarod eyes followed her movement, registering the gun that lay on the fridge and her frustration, the small smirk that appeared on his lips a clear indication.

"Dammit!" she yelled, trembling in fury, "What are you doing here Jarod! Is tonight Halloween and is my house is the only damn one with candy left?" Growling in annoyance, she stalked towards him, the aggravation that she had to face at The Center today because of him, always him, manifesting as she moved to grab the front lapels of his front jacket. Using it as leverage, her face close to his, she turned and shoved him against the wall of her kitchen, practically steaming in anger.

With her heels, Miss Parker stood at just the same height as her nemesis, and as they faced each other their noses barely touched, their eyes locked, Jarod's lit with humour while hers storming in fury.

"What? Do my eyes tell you just how badly I want to pick up that gun and end this here and now instead of dragging you back to the bowels of the centre?" she snarled, his jacket material still fisted in her hands, Parker using to jerk and tug him several times during her tirade.

Unresisting, and somewhat arrested by her face, her eyes, her lips, and her voice even as it grew husky as she laid her threats, Jarod felt himself speaking openly.

"As we searched for the man who was targeting Mr Broots, Miss Parker, and he questioned those who could trust at The Centre, I told him that you did not have murder in your heart, " pausing to search her eyes for an instant, Jarod tried to hide his slight discomfiture even as he continued, "nor in your eyes, Miss Parker." He ended on a whisper, similar to the real incident, uncomfortable with his admission.

Parker stared at Jarod, her eyes beginning to cloud over, and as he stood staring into her eyes, he saw her draw into herself, away from him. Always away from him.

"Miss Parker," he whispered, his eyes resting on the back of her head as she looked down for a moment.

At his call her head jerked upwards, the anger and violence returning. She released the lapels of his jacket roughly, throwing him back towards the wall with a soft "oomph!".

Spinning around, Parker began to pace the short distance that was the floor of her kitchen, her boots striking the linoleum sharply, ignoring the rocking motions of Angelo who had been quiet throughout the entire scene. Jarod watched her, silent for the moment as he tried to gauge what she was going through, what she was thinking, especially when Parker had always been a mystery to him, a contradiction in its definitive sense.

"Daughter, Father, Brother, Son, Mother, Sister, Parents, Child, Down, Up." The distinctive voice struck Parker's last nerve and she reacted instinctively.

Spinning around, she threw her hands up and yelled, "What the _hell_ does he mean by that!"

Chuckling softly at her frustration, and at the guilty look that passed over Angelo's face for an instant as he glanced up from his seated position, Jarod pushed himself away from the wall, his mind turning to the reason he had tracked Angelo here in the first place.

"Miss Parker, we need to listen to him. Both of us."


	5. From the Mouth of Babes

Disclaimer: Look to chapt 1

Author's Note: _I apologise for the delay. I was a little busy these last few days but i was waiting to see if i got an offer of a scholarship to UK. Been going for a whole slew of interviews. But i did and i am now a scholar..mwahahaha! ...ahem..  
_

_Anyway, I had been anxiously waiting to see if I got an offer and all your lovely reviews for all my stories went a long way to keeping my mind off it this week. So a big Thank You to all who have reviewed! My stories in Pretender are dedicated to all of you..really! hehe._

_Here's the next chapter..enjoy!_

Keep Running

Chapter 5

From the Mouth of Babes

"Daughter, Father, Brother, Son, Mother, Sister, Parents, Child, Down, Up." The distinctive voice struck Parker's last nerve and she reacted instinctively.

Spinning around, she threw her hands up and yelled, "What the hell does he mean by that!"

Chuckling softly at her frustration, and at the guilty look that passed over Angelo's face for an instant as he glanced up from his seated position, Jarod pushed himself away from the wall, his mind turning to the reason he had tracked Angelo here in the first place.

"Miss Parker, we need to listen to him. Both of us."

Looking at him, Parker saw the glint of humour, of childish curiosity that usually followed him like a distinctive scent dissipate, leaving behind an intense, mature and attractive man that held himself with both dignity and confidence. The leather he wore fit him perfectly, the dark colours reminding Parker of her own tastes.

_We're more alike than you think, Miss Parker.._

Glancing away, Parker fought to focus her energy on Angelo, his rocking motion calling to the little compassion she wanted to believe still remained in her even as she pushed away the troubling emotions that Jarod seemed to just reach in and sooth awake.

Turning back to him and forcing herself to look into his eyes she asked caustically,

"Does it have to do with my mother's murder?" Her dark eyebrows raised, she waited for his response.

Even as something flitted through his brown eyes, a flash in an instant, Jarod's expression did not change as he spoke.

"No."

A simple word, small and stark, but for Parker it represented another false hope, another road abruptly cut off.

"Then we have nothing to say to each other and I don't need to hear from Cracker Jack here either." Turning away she reached for her keys and gun, intending to sneak Angelo in before security noticed his absence from his little cubby hole in the air-vents.

"It's about your mother's eggs."

Parker froze, her back to Jarod, her arms bent as she stuck her gun in the small of her back, snug against the waistband of her tan leather pants.

Jarod watched her, watched her carefully enough to see the subtle drop in her shoulders, the way her hair shifted as she dropped her head downward just an inch. Regardless of the distance that separated them, he could practically feel the way the muscles in her tensed, tightened and recoiled their strength.

Parker drew herself together, years of discipline supporting the instinctive movement, her fingers unwrapping from the handle of her handgun slowly even as she turned to face him. Hitching her shoulders back and crossing her arms over her chest, her eyes daring him to piss her off some more, she spoke softly.

"What eggs?"

"Frozen when she underwent fertilization treatments two years before you were conceived." He deliberately left Lyle out of the equation, unable to fully comprehend the possible sibling relationship between two such radically different people. The nature vs nurture debate poking its way forth from the primordial ooze again.

"Those were destroyed in the explosion, lab-rat. I believe you had a front-row seat for that little adventure." Parker broke in, her posture displaying her growing frustration and exasperation.

"There were back-ups, Parker. Specimens from your father, from Raines, from Angelo. From your mother." Pausing, he watched as she took this in.

"Specimens from me. And from you. But I knew there were back-ups and soon after the explosion i stole both our samples because i knew they were the most likely to be used in the future. However, in the spirit of the Centre, they just improvised, and to hell with the consequences." His tone was angry, accusing and his eyes shone with the strength of the emotions that had built over these last few years.

Her breath hitching, Parker began to bristle in anger. At always being in the dark, at those who tried to gain control of her puppet strings, at how closely associated she had become to this feeling of falling into an abyss whenever she was faced with the dark sense of impending doom when the centre, when her family secrets, were revealed to her.

_Miss Parker? Who are the Parkers?_

"Who am I?" She said the words softly, not even realizing she said them aloud, that as she said it her right hand had moved to her abdomen, as if trying to hold in the deep pain that was not just her ulcer anymore, was not just physical anymore.

"Miss Parker?" Hearing her whisper, Jarod's brows had drawn together, and he took a step towards her, a part of him wanting to reach out, to touch her and to smooth away her hair as they hid her eyes from him.

Miss Parker jerked, not just at his movement and at his tone, but at the soft touch on her thigh. Her eyes wide, she looked down at Angelo, her lips parted as she saw the lucidity of the gaze that stared back up at her.

"Daughter." The words were hesitant, the words gravelly as if the voice had been unused, was unfamiliar even to the owner. Angelo swallowed visibly, his eyes turning to look at Jarod for encouragement, for friendship.

Even though Jarod had taken a surprised glance at Angelo, his eyes were now on Parker, gauging her reaction, more than anything savouring this side of her when she let down her guard unexpectedly.

"Daughter, Sister."

Looking at Jarod, Angelo's voice rose in strength.

"Father, Son, Brother."

A little more confident, he turned back to Parker, his eyes wet.

"Mother?"

Miss Parker stared at him in shock, numb even as he reached for her hand whispering "Friend."

Horror rose in Parker, the bile like acid against the back of her throat, her stomach in cramps even as she resisted the strong urge to gag.

Turning her head to look at Jarod, one hand held carefully in the cautious grasp of Angelo, she pressed one heel of her other hand to her heart, trying somehow to ease the weight that had settled there, a hard and domineering weight.

She gazed at the compassion in Jarod's eyes, at the pain she saw there and even as a part of her recognized that pain, she felt herself closing up, drawing away again. Self-preservation. The hallmark of the Parker tradition. She cleared her throat, swallowed the phlegm.

" I need a drink."

Jerking her hand from Angelo's, ignoring his look of hurt surprise, she stalked out of the kitchen, her heels striking hollowly it seemed to her.

She ran away from the suspicions, from the knowledge. She ran away from the pain that came with change.

Parker knew this, knew it was cowardice, but she ran nevertheless.

Grabbing the bottle of scotch, her hand finding it easily even in the practical darkness that suffused her living room, she splashed a liberal amount into a crystal glass. For a few quiet moments, the clink of ice-cubes against crystal and her hard breathing were the only things that seemed to move with life in the house.

Jarod, who had followed her, his leather boots cushioning his steps on the hard floor, stuck his hands into the pockets of his leather jacket to keep from reaching out and ripping the bottle from her hands. From catching her shoulders and spinning her around, just to feel her against him, to share in her pain even as he buried his face and hands in her hair to salve his own wounds.

The room was dark with swathes of moonlight stark against the floor as it ran through the stained glass pane on her front door. As Jarod stepped into the soft light, the rays bending to wrap around the angles of his frame, Parker deliberately ignored him, ignored her own need to gravitate towards his warmth.

"They wouldn't."

The words were low and harsh, and brought back in flashes the many times before when it was said with the same certainty and conviction.

Placing the glass back on the bar, it settling with a sharp tap against the glass surface, Parker let her head fall back, the tears building again, her breath beginning to hitch into soft sobs that she kept in. Always kept in.

"They wouldn't." She repeated, this time the words were weak, the conviction lost.

She felt him move behind her in the dark, felt the same electricity from all those years ago when their palms touched over a metal desk, startling both with its intensity, with the sense of destiny for both that they barely understood as children.

Jarod felt his heart breaking, and in his mind he saw the little girl in the DSA he had watched, hiding her pain and grief as she tried to understand the import of her mother gone, gone forever.

Tenderly, he placed his hands on the side of her slim waist, drawing her back closer to this chest, feeling his thighs brushing against the back of hers, his hands clenching and unclenching as it savored the soft heat it touched at her waist.

Feeling the dark like a soft blanket enveloping her, Parker felt herself growing weak, wanting to submit as long as the dark covered her actions, covered the betrayal and hid any mistake she could make.

Feeling a soft pressure on the back of her head, Parker knew it was his lips that touched her so sweetly, it sent a tingle down her neck and she closed her eyes to capture the emotions it evoked. Emotions that she had not felt in years now.

They stayed like that for a while, two forms melding into one in the soft light that barely rested on them, the dark hiding the lines where their bodies would part, both their eyes closed, his hands on her waist and his lips in her hair even as her shoulders began to shake, even as her lips trembled just a little.

"Parker," Jarod whispered, his lips moving in her hair. He tightened his hands around her waist, the steely cord of his arms holding her against him securely, his back slightly bent over hers as if he protected her from a strong force that ran at them from behind.

Moving his head to her shoulder, his eyes open and looking unseeingly out the window in front, he tilted his head to direct his lips at her right ear.

"Please, Parker," he whispered, his voice hoarse with new emotions now that he had touched her, had held her.

"Help me, Parker. Help me get an innocent child out of there."

At those words, Parker broke. Hugging her shoulders with both arms as she embraced herself, she broke, Jarod's arms still holding her firmly, quelling her sobs even as he felt tear tracks down his own cheeks. His hands fisted, in pain and in anger.

**"No,"** her voice broken, the word came out ragged but resounded in the hollow darkness.

_  
Author's Note: I made up the explosion that destroyed the genetic samples, i have not reached the finale of season two but i know there is a different explosion there so i hope i didn't make you think i was referring to that.. i am really watching my DVDs slowly...give me time pls lol  
_

_Click the little grey button and let your fingers do the talking..cliche I know but I am feeling a little emotional right now heh._


	6. Alliance of Blessed Sleep

Disclaimer: Look to chapt 1

Author's Note: _Sorry for the delay, catching up on some reading (irony! Mwahahaha!). Those who loved the last scene, I loved writing it as well, mostly because it's the stuff of my dreams!_

_Thank you for all those amazing reviews and I appreciate all and any comments you guys have for me.._

_Here's the next chapter..enjoy!_

**Keep Running**

**Chapter 6: Alliance of Blessed Sleep**

"_No_," her voice broken, the word came out ragged but resounded in the hollow darkness.

Jarod was not prepared for the wave of shock that shot through him, that caused his entire frame to stiffen in an instant and brought his head up from where he had inclined it to whisper his plea into her ear. He had thought that he had gotten through to her, that if nothing else, her tears were a stark indication of the shift in her alliance, the last nail in the coffin bearing her loyalty to her father and the tradition of the Centre.

He stepped back, his body recoiling from her instinctively even as his arms missed her, his body longed to have her warmth against him again. He fought these emotions, his own betrayal stinging his pride, his intelligence.

"What do you mean, no?" The words were harsh, the tone deep with the resonance of a growl rumbling in the pits of his throat.

Parker turned towards him, her arms still wrapped around her shoulders in an embrace, but these shoulders were straight and strong, not bent and cowed over as if she tried to absorb a punch. Her eyes were dark with emotion, their blue-green colour masked by shadows but the moonlight caught on the water that had fallen down her cheeks just moments before, her weakness plain to see.

"This is not the turning moment you imagined, Jarod. How can you possibly believe that I will help you spirit this child away, whoever he or she is? If they used my mother's egg, this child is my family. Not yours, Jarod. It always comes down to that, doesn't it? To family?" She spoke steadily, her tone monotonous, dead but for the force of conviction that was clear in her stance, in the way she held herself, alone and independent.

Jarod could feel the growl getting stronger, even as her words dug into his soul, were like a lance driving into his gut. He had always seen her as an important part of his childhood, as a friend and confidant in the darkness, perhaps at a stretch the family he found happenstance among the evil that surrounded them.

"Didn't you hear what Angelo was saying in there, Parker? Has any of this really sunk in or are you just caught up in your normal routine of denial?"

The words were impulsive, the way words never were for Jarod. He always spoke having predicted the reactions, the impact and the purpose. With Parker, he spoke without truly thinking, his reactions to her were primal.

_They always have been.._

Parker's eyes widened at his insult, her fingers digging into her shoulders painfully as she forced the tears back, forced herself back from the brink of despair she had been at only seconds before. She had a little child to save, a sister or brother to look to, to rip from the sickly clutches of the Centre and whatever they had planned when they sanctioned the conception.

"Who _is_ the father? I assume you know as you always seem to." The tone caustic she turned back to her scotch, every nerve in her alert to his presence, his movements. His touch and embrace seemed to have left a mark on her skin, her soul, and she could not brush it off, regardless of how badly she told herself she must forget.

Jarod spun away, his movements blunt with anger and frustration. His fists were clenched and he controlled the irrational urge to send a fist plunging into the wall. He moved to a corner, his boots soft against the carpet that lined the living room floor, and sinking into the shadows as if to hide the wounds that she had poked at, he leaned into the wall, his hands in the pockets of his long leather jacket.

"I got Angelo's email this afternoon. It dawned on me slowly what the words meant but apparently he had recently comes across a project named Respite. I looked into the Centre mainframe and found a retrieval form with the same project name stamped on it. The retrieval form was for the shipping of genetic samples. Your mother's eggs and the father's sperm. For _his_ sample."

Jarod's eyes gleamed as he looked to the father, his words softening with compassion even as his heart pulsed with hatred for the Centre.

Parker turned around at his words, feeling the scotch hitting the bottom of her stomach with a hot vengeance and was confronted with Angelo's form in the kitchen doorway, his frame bent and his stance hesitant. She had already begun to put the pieces together but when said aloud, when put as strong facts, she found herself horrified, the urge to gag once again strong.

"_Daddy_," the words were whispered, the tone gravelly but suffused with pain and tears.

Parker felt her heart clench at the injustice, the cruelty heaped on his helplessness and tried to resist the urge to let the tears come again, to give into the pain, if only to ignore the fact that she worked for these people, for their purpose.

Jarod watched her from the shadows, and knew Angelo's words hit her hard.

_But not hard enough.._

"He wants _us_ to get him out, Parker. He wants _us_ to be the child's parents, to be the child's family even as convoluted as the relationship might seem to an outsider." He watched as her eyes swung to meet his, her hair falling around her, shadowing her face from his gaze.

"I consider Angelo not just a friend, but a brother as well, Parker. I will _not_ let his child stay in the Centre and I will _not _take any chances with his safety just because you are too stubborn and want to do this on your own." He pushed away from the comfort of the wall and walked towards her, knowing that the force of his presence did not work on her as it might on others but understanding how the success of his plan depended on her working with him.

"If I do this alone, Parker, this child will be on the run with me for a long time and I wouldn't wish that life on anyone. There is a reason why Angelo came to _you_ tonight, as well as sending that message to _me_ as well. He understands we need to do this _together_, that it can only work if we do this together. Can't you see there is a reason why he posits _us_ as the child's parents?" he saw the way she jerked at that, her back against the windows as he stared into her eyes, his brown eyes darkened with conviction and resolve, his voice deep and earnest.

She turned away, walking the few feet to the door, and Jarod stood stock still, felt his heart clench at the thought that she was leaving to alert the sweepers that sat in their car down the street from her home.

Reaching for the doorknob, Parker paused and inclined her head towards Angelo.

"Go out the back and get into the garage, Angelo. You need to get back to the Centre."

She didn't turn to look at Jarod, gave no indication that she even cared whether he stayed or left.

Opening the door quietly she walked out of the house, leaving Jarod standing there staring at the closed door. His arms akimbo, hands on his waist pushing the sides of the jacket away, he leaned his head back and closed his eyes, closed them from the pain and exhaustion that tore through him.

* * *

Letting herself back into her dark house, feeling radically removed from the Parker who had stepped through this same door just a few hours ago, she tossed her car keys on the side-table and stepped out of her heels, sighing with relief from her pinched toes and at having put this night behind her for now.

She didn't look for him, she knew he would wait, knew he was there in the shadows. But she was so tired, tired from the emotions that had been roaring through all the while she had driven to and from the Centre, tired from having every nerve in her body screaming different things about what she had to do, how she should react.

All she wanted was blessed sleep, the ignorance of oblivion before she started thinking of the actions she needed to take, the plans she needed to put into place. She had made her decision, knew what had to be done, but for now she didn't want to think about her life, about how it was changing so radically around her.

_But how do I tell him what i want.._

Her bare feet padded towards her room, and she sensed more than heard the rustle of movement behind her. She ignored it, as she tugged her silk blouse from her waistband and unzipped her tan leather pants, letting it fall to the floor, her modesty still intact with the substantial length of her silk shirt. Tossing the pants onto her sideboard, she climbed into her bed, her body longing for the soft sheets and what they represented.

Jarod walked to the side of the bed, looking down at Miss Parker as she drifted softly to sleep, his thoughts still on the long silky length of her legs that gleamed in the soft moonlight that filtered in through the blinds in her room. He had imagined her for a second in one of his suit – shirts, her hair mussed and her lips in a sexy grin directed at him, his entire body had reacted to the image forcefully.

But those thoughts didn't dispel the frustration and anger that he had been fighting with in the hour she had been gone, and as much as he wanted to, didn't dispel the confrontation they needed to have still.

A rustle of the sheets pulled his attention back to her sensual form underneath those sheets, and he could only watch dumbly as she reached one hand up to him, the slim fingers folded slightly, searching for his. Her eyes were closed and her face betrayed no expression except the anticipation of sweet blessed sleep. Yet her hand reached for his, closing firmly around his left hand and wrist. His head tilted in confusion, he watched that hand and felt it tug at his, once, twice.

Still angry, still frustrated, Jarod felt himself leaning downwards, felt himself pushing back those sheets. Using one hand to support him as he fell towards the empty space she left for him, watching her face, he realised that she had made her decision, that after all this aggravation, after all the arguments he had built in his head, he didn't need any of it because she had decided.

_She had chosen them.._

His right arm folded underneath his head on the pillow, his skull resting on the crook of his elbow, he angled his body to face hers on the bed, his eyes fixed on her face even as he felt the tension that had pulled at him release itself in one fell swoop, his muscles melting into the soft comfort of the bed it seemed.

Jarod was unsure if he should say something, move closer to her, or hold her. He waited for her to make the next move, past experience with Parker holding him back from doing anything impulsive.

But all Parker did was to keep his other hand in hers as she fell asleep. She didn't say a word and neither did she move closer to him, the white cloth of the space between them clear in the darkness. Jarod didn't move any closer as he lay on his side facing her, he just watched her in the darkness, in the quiet, watched the way the shadows softened the lines of her face, caressed the curve of her lips. Sleep came slowly to claim him, and he resisted in an attempt to savour these moments, the comfort and ease of their newfound and tenable intimacy. Finally he gave into it; his eyes drifting close of their own accord, their hands firmly linked together throughout the night, resting as one fist on the space that separated their two forms.

_She had chosen them..._

A/N: Let me know what you think! Reviews keep me inspired! lol  



	7. Insight to Dawn of Days Part 1

Disclaimer: Look to chapt 1

Author's Note: _For those who wondered why I orchestrated the last scene the way I did, my only excuse is that I find it difficult to see these two openly expressing their feelings around each other so in this initial phase their relationship is built in the silence, in actions rather than words, in the pauses between the sarcastic remarks..ahem.. _

_Thank you again for all your reviews, esp Jar-Par Fan, Miss P, AJeff, Indygodusk, Odakota, jojodacrow..the list goes on. I am now your biggest fan, Thank You...Here's the next chapter..enjoy!_

**Keep Running**

**Chapter 6: Insight to Dawn of Days**

He watched her, had been for some time now, his hand clasped warmly in hers still, their fisted grasp resting in the space between them, the space that neither in the night had broached, unsure and inexperienced. His body was well rested, Jarod realised, there had been no dark dreams, and he hadn't jerked awake in a cold sweat, haunted by the henchmen of his past and the ever-present need to run.

He marveled that he had discovered the definitive of sleep finally, here in the bedroom of the woman that was tasked with chasing him down and returning him to his own little hell-hole where all those nightmares had begun. This contradiction of a woman, tied to his past in ways he could barely sort through. For Jarod, his self-reliance, self-awareness, was what kept him sane in all his different pretends, but with Parker this was lost and he felt himself falter.

The shadows in the room were being gradually driven back by the first rays of dawn, the warm light resting on Jarod's back as he lay on his side, his body facing hers even as she lay on hers facing him. Like sentries, they were parallel forms, unmoving and silent. But one was awake, awake and watchful. Her dark hair rested softly against the curves of her cheeks, thick locks falling forward to rest at the edge of her full lips and in the curve of her throat.

Her other hand rested in the hollow of her throat, the small fist she made somehow made her seem vulnerable to him, as if she fought in her dreams as well just as Jarod always did, this sense of empathy shocked him but warmed him in ways the sunlight of freedom had never done. Slipping his other arm from underneath his head, his movements barely disturbing the silence, he placed it on that fist, his palm overlapping hers warmly, gently releasing the tight hold her fingers had, slowly and carefully even as he remained mesmerized by the softness of her features in sleep.

It was that moment that Parker woke.

Drifting up from the soft cocoon of oblivion, she felt warmth, not the artificial warmth of a blanket or heater, but that of another body. She realized that both her hands were held, held in the warm clasp that was definitely male from its size and callused finger-pads. Even that roughness appealed to her, and she smiled slightly, feeling safe now that she had someone to depend on, if only in her sleep.

Then Parker opened her eyes and looked straight into those of Jarod's, his gaze clear and alert. For a moment, she felt disoriented, wondering if this was another of her recurrent dreams that involved the Pretender, but when she felt his hands tighten over hers, a thrill passed through her at the physical contact and she knew this was real, all too real.

Seconds passed as she stared at him, trying to understand why the look in his eyes caused her breath to falter, it wasn't lust, that emotion she knew well enough from ample experience with men, there were other emotions in those eyes, emotions that terrified Parker and sent her reeling for a sense of balance.

In one swift movement, she ripped her hands from his and pushed back the sheets, touching her feet to the floor and slipping them into the slippers she left there. She did not look at him, did not say a word, just got up and disappeared into her bathroom.

The Parker she needed to be to face this day could not be the Parker that woke up in that bed. She didn't know how to harmonise the two.

* * *

Jarod waited for her in the kitchen, brewing coffee and scrounging around in her cupboards for something sweet, something to salve his smarting dignity from her outright rejection of him before. He knew he should do the same, that the only thing for them to do was to focus on working together in order to get Angelo's child out of the Centre, and nothing else. He wouldn't mention last night, he decided, he would ignore all the emotions he had felt watching her sleep because he knew opening himself up to Parker in any way would only bring heartache, and Jarod had little left to sacrifice to her. 

Parker walked in, immaculate in a dark pink blouse and pinstriped black skirt, her hair glossy and arranged to perfection. As usual, there was heavy-make up, purple eye shadow and pink lipstick, and for in a primal reaction Jarod felt the he wanted it all gone, all the artifice to be removed so that instead of lips pressed tightly together, she could smile without abandon for once.

_Don't be a fool, Jarod.._

Wordlessly, he offered her a mug of bitter coffee, knowing she liked to take it with only one spoon of sugar. She walked forward, her heels striking hard against the kitchen floor, her blouse and skirt moving fluidly, and Jarod instinctively felt himself drawn to her beauty, but said nothing.

"Why haven't you left?" Parker didn't look at him, sipping carefully at the hot brew, her hand on her kitchen sink as she looked out the window over it into the backyard.

Jarod slipped both hands around his hot mug, the stinging pain in his palms from the heat a welcome relief.

"If we are going to work together, the very least we could do is discuss how we want to move forward." This voice has toneless, the words strong but detached.

Suddenly he looked straight at her, only seeing her in profile.

"You do.." he questioned, both hands gripping the edge of a marble counter.

"I do," she said softly, knowing he asked her to confirm what she meant the night before when she..

_Don't say it, Parker.._

_Don't even think it…_

Feeling a sigh escape him, Jarod walked to the kitchen table, noticing the picture of her and Sydney she had on a side table, but it was an old picture because she was still a child. Looking around he realized he saw no other pictures of her here, in this place she called home, at least none in which she was grown.

He took a sip of his coffee, trying to ignore the tight feeling he had in his chest.

Parker turned around to face him, one hand holding her mug, her eyes steady and hard. The sun behind her highlighted her hair and sharpened the lines of her face, rendering her both cold but beautiful.

"They must keep the child at the Centre, the bastards would not trust an external facility for his preparation as a Pretender," Parker felt the rage that coursed through her at their heartless manipulation of her mother's death and of Angelo. As much as the empath exasperated and irritated her sometimes, she remembered the boy she knew as a child, and could not forget the tenderness she had felt then.

"Angelo spoke the words 'Up, Down' as well. I think it has to do with where his child is being kept. And if Angelo knows, it should be easy to narrow down his location to the sub-levels and let him lead us to the child."

Gazing at him as he sat at her kitchen table, supremely confident it seemed, one leg crossed over the other, his complete black attire molding to his frame a thought struck Parker.

"Is it a boy?" she queried, bringing the mug up to take another warm sip, hopeful that it could sweep away some of the coldness she felt within.

Surprised, Jarod eyes widened slightly even as his eyes remained on hers.

"I don't know."

Her lips twisting, Parker scoffed, "So much for the genius bit, if only the Centre could see you now."

She saw the amusement that flooded his face, even as it seemed that the emotion took him off guard as well.

"I came here before taking the time to access the mainframe any further. But since the only file that came up with the project name Respite was a retrieval form, I don't think we are going to have any more help with this pursuing that avenue. It seems they have beefed up the security for this particular project, no apparent electronic trails and information. That's where you come in."

Her eyes widening in mock surprise Parker placed her mug in the sink.

"No kidding, labrat."

As she was turning, something resting on the floor underneath her kitchen table caught her eye. Trying to get a better look, she tucked a lock of falling hair back behind her left ear. Bending down, her knees together and both hands resting on them, she reached forward for the object, a box of Cracker-Jacks from Angelo's late-night visit.

That's when it hit her, the memory like a sledgehammer between her eyes, and she could barely hear Jarod's query.

"Parker? Parker, are you alright?" Jarod was disturbed by how her pallor had changed as she reached for the innocuous snack box, the little natural color in her face disappearing in an instant, the green in her eyes darkening.

Parker felt the hand he placed on her shoulder after a few seconds, the warmth so familiar even through the thin material of her silk blouse. She also felt the same electricity she always did when he touched her, and in this case it came on top of the horror that already clutched at her chest, sending her reeling away from him.

Jarod's hand dropped quickly away when Parker jerked from his hold, rising quickly from her crouched position and moving away from him. He didn't let it affect him, told himself that after all his experience with her it was the least he could expect, this was what Jarod told himself even as his other hand began to massage subconsciously the palm of the hand that had recently been resting on her slim shoulder.

Staring at the box she held in her hand, Parker did not bother to respond to his steady gaze on her as the memory came rushing back.

"It's a boy," she whispered, turning to look at him.

"What?" he snapped, lines appearing between his eyebrows, his eyes narrowing on her.

"I saw him. It's a boy, dammit," she snapped back even as she spun to drop the box carelessly on the counter, her strides into the living room determined and intense.

"Parker!" Jarod yelled, rising quickly off his seat to follow her, jostling the table as he roughly pushed away from the table.

Shrugging on her suit jacket quickly, Parker ignored him, focused on getting to the Centre. She grabbed her bag and strode to the bar where she had left her keys last night just before..she mentally jerked herself away from the direction in which her thoughts were going, the anger coursing through her providing a familiar haven of solace.

As her hand reached for the metal ring of keys, she did not see the hand that caught that same arm and spun her around roughly, demanding her attention. Jarod was not going to let her storm out here, knowing she was going to do something impulsive in her present frame of mind, and he definitely was not going to let her go into the retrieval of the child, the boy, half-cocked.

They faced each other, barely an inch apart in her dark living room, musty and warm from the midmorning sunlight slanting in through the blinds. His hand was still tight on her arm, the grip firm and unyielding, and at her proximity the tension that sparked between them grew. Jarod felt his eyes flick in the direction of her lips, his gaze growing hooded for an instant. Even as he felt his body swaying closer to her heat he drew mentally away from the dangerous region his thoughts dwelled.

_ "Tell me." _His voice was hard and insistent, and even through the anger that shook her frame, his words registered forcing her to still abruptly, feeling the rage subside.

_No one else had ever had that effect on her.._

A/N: Click the pretty button..let me know what you think..


	8. Insight to Dawn of Days Part 2

_Author's Note: I'm a little high right now and before you get the wrong idea, I'm talking about the fact that I just got through watching 'Island of the Haunted' and OMG, I was blown away by that scene in front of the fireplace! Going to have that dream the next few days, with my own personal extensions of course lol. As for the whole Raines equals father figure issue, I felt nauseous **for **Parker..eyuk.._

_Anyway, I gotta know, are there any good fics that continue the story from the end of this movie? Let me know u guys cos I am salivating for more (egh, such an ugly picture)…_

Disclaimer: Refer to Chapter 1..

**Keep Running, Chapter 8**

**Insight to Dawn of Days Part 2**

Gray is an evil colour, and the little child tried to hide in the shadows where grey met black, in the dusty and deep darkness in a place where he could hide nowhere.

It was the cool metal that reassured him; the solid walls and its presence. He sat in the darkest corner of the room, clutching his knees into his chest, his head down and his eyes shut. Those eyes; that had seen so much today and yet felt like he watched through someone else's vision and not his own. He screwed those eyes shut further, hoping that if he pressed them harder together, in the folds of skin those images might be flattened and he would just see black.

On the hard cement floor, the child pushed back further into his solitary corner, wanting to be seen by no one, wanted to believe he would never be seen again which would mean they would have to leave him alone. The boy was not able to justify his emotions to this extent; even with his genius IQ he was still a child and for him, the world was a maze of emotions and senses, taken in but barely assimilated.

He heard the bad man come, the squeaking along the floor, his heavy wheezing breaths and an involuntary whimper escaped him. _No, not again..I just want to sleep.._

As the door opened inward, the metal screeching against the floor and the silhouettes of three people brightly lit in its frame, the little boy began to bump his head against the wall beside him. Rhythmically, with the same amount of force in each identical movement..

_ 1,2,3.. _

"Get", a deep indrawn breath, a wheeze.. "him up."

_Please.._

_

* * *

_

The keys remained in its place on the bar, forgotten by the two occupants of the room.

Parker had taken a seat along the sofa, resting against the side furthest from Jarod, although she told herself that meant nothing, was just a matter of chance when she chose to take a seat.

Jarod sat in the one armchair of the sofa set, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees as he fixed his steady gaze on her, his brown eyes penetrating.

"What do you mean when you said 'you saw him'?" There was confusion in his tone, as well as insistence.

Parker sighed, pushing the hair that fell over the left side off her face behind one ear even as she bent and gathered her long legs beneath her, knowing this was going to be a long conversation and not bothering to control the glare she threw his way.

"Yesterday," she began. God, she could not believe it had only been yesterday, that overnight everything in her world had tipped on its axis.

More importantly, something inside her was warning her that she could not keep this up any longer, that she could not force herself to adapt to any new revelation about the Centre and the Parker legacy for much longer, without truly losing _herself_ in the bargain.

"Yesterday in my office, I found a little boy under my desk, Jarod. He was hiding there from Lyle's goons and from the way they had taken over the entire Centre, I knew this little boy was extremely important to our thumbless little miscreant. I was about to speak to him, to reassure him, but before I could even take another breath, those bloody sweepers came in and dragged him away, Lyle with his lips firmly glued to their asses now that they held his prized possession,"

Parker stopped there, having to struggle against the tight feeling in her chest, her gaze unseeing even as she seemed to be gazing straight ahead at her coffee table.

Instead of the mahogany wood, her mind was still focused on the image she had of a scared little boy hiding beneath her desk, a boy with dark brown hair, just like the one that she had when she was a little girl, and the same green eyes her mother had had.

Every cell in her body screamed for her to get him out, to march into that centre and rip her little brother from their arms. But she knew Jarod was right, that to get the boy out safely they needed to work together as much as his proximity confused her, how his arguments against her family and the Centre swayed her the way those of her own will couldn't, as difficult as this was to admit to herself.

"What made you think it's him?" Jarod's voice brought Parker back.

"It had to be. You might think I am only a Centre stooge, Jarod," she spat, her eyes impaling him, "but I've kept an eye on the projects that Lyle has been involved in. There wasn't even a hint of this boy's existence till that moment, which means that this project only recently landed in his disgusting little lap."

"You've been kept out of the loop before." The words were said steadily, without mockery.

Yet they made Parker bristle, wanting to lash out at something, or someone.

Letting out a harsh laugh, she looked him in the eye.

"Ofcourse you would say that, having lived in that state of blissful ignorance for, what was it? Thirty years?"

She saw his irises contract, how the brown colour deepened in anger but forced herself to feel nothing but satisfaction at the hit.

Leaning back, Jarod folded his arms across his chest, his forearm muscles flexing in the movement, bringing Parker's gaze involuntary to them.

Smiling grimly, his head tilted back in the seat even as he kept his eyes trained on her, Jarod spoke slowly and carefully.

"I take it that makes us quite a pigeon pair, doesn't it?"

Parker looked away from him, her eyes falling to the coat she had draped over the back of her sofa. Noticing a dark shadow, she reached out for the cloth, pulling it towards her. She recognized the stain from the stomach syrup she had spilled when she had seen Angelo's son underneath her office desk. Her face softened, the hair caressing the curves of her chin and cheeks as she stared down at the dark pink stain, her hands clenched around the cloth.

Parker sighed, and her words came out slow and low, "He was terrified, and his eyes..there was nothing left of a child in them. Only fear. And _loneliness_." She spoke more to herself than him, but as those last words came out, Parker happened to glance up at Jarod and saw the way his expression had changed, how he had jerked, his shoulders drawing inwardly in one hurt movement as if he felt the child's emotions, as if in a blink of an eye Jarod _became_ that child.

And Parker saw the boy she once knew, to whom smiles did not come with instinct, but had to be coaxed and encouraged. She saw those same eyes that had called to her as a little girl, that had pushed her to defy her father and tell him her first name,that even as she chased him all these years, had wanted to let herself trust him.

"I'll check through the mainframe again, moving back through Centre records to get a hit on who manufactured the project in the first place. For now, his identity will remain a mystery," Jarod pushed away the memories Parker's description of the little boy had evoked within him, reminding himself that he had escaped, that they had no hold on him now. But even at that, a part of him began to mock his apparent self-assurance, the belief that he had truly escaped and was no longer that little boy who always felt a little lost.

"We'll get him out tomorrow."

Parker saw how the words hurt him, how much he actually empathized with her own instinctive need to rush into the Centre and rip the child from its embrace.

"I'll put together the basic escape plan once we know where he is being kept exactly. You need to get in touch with Angelo today, Parker. If nothing else, he has been watching the little boy and knows his general routine which could be crucial to our timing. I also need to know how far they have gotten in their project to mold him into a Pretender," Jarod felt the way his muscles were pulled tight in frustration, the hot rush of anger that transformed his hands instinctively into fists.

"How could they do it? They desecrated my mother's memory!"

Tears pooling in her eyes, Parker's voice had dropped to a husky growl.

Jarod felt himself reacting to her pain, the way he had since they were children and all he had ever wanted to do was to keep her smiling, even if it was at his own expense.

"The Centre believes in manipulation, Parker, in ensuring their own twisted version of success by any means possible."

"And they think I would not find out?" The words were a growl, the aggravation that tore through Parker holding her stiff.

"They never planned on you finding out. And they probably banked on your loyalty to your father."

Parker had been staring at him, but at the mention of her father she jerked and turned her face away from him, refusing to meet his gaze.

"He might have initiated this."

Jarod knew the reception this would get, but he was convinced that Mr Parker had a large part to play in sanctioning the project.

"No! He loved my mother! He would never have done this!" Her hair whipping as she tuned her head back swiftly towards him, one perfectly manicured finger pointing at him in anger, Parker blocked all doubts from her own mind, refusing to entertain the thoughts at least until Jarod was not there to convince her in all his self-righteousness.

Jarod sighed, running a hand through his short, cropped hair, fresh from a recent cut after Parker had mocked him about leaving it long. Although he told himself that had nothing to do with it, they way he softened at the hurt little girl he saw in Parker told him something different.

"Fine, let's get back to the boy."

Parker sat back, still tense at the insinuation but willing to listen.

About to continue, abruptly, Jarod hesitated and looked at Parker cautiously.

"Do you want to involve Sydney and Mr Broots?" He questioned, his stance suggesting that he would follow whatever decision she made.

"No, I don't think we should," she stopped, her face turning stony, "Do you think Sydney knows?"

She watched the shock that passed across his face, before an age-old resignation set in.

"I don't know. I would like to think he isn't but they might have pulled him into this and ensured his silence somehow," massaging the back of his neck with his right hand, he continued.

"I want to believe he doesn't."

With a short nod, Parker took over the planning.

"Call me on my cell at 2. Pretend like it's a routine phone call, make the requisite remarks and I will let you know where the boy is being kept," she stopped, glaring at him, "Try to go in without me on your own solo mission, Jarod, I will have sweepers all over you and I will take the boy out of the Centre myself and disappear."

He gazed back at her, a small smile breaking out and his eyes seemed to clear, shining with amusement.

"I would never dream of leaving you behind, Parker."

Resisting the urge to let out a vulgar snort, Parker pushed herself off the sofa and grabbed her keys. She felt his eyes on her back, knew that he watched her all the way to the front door. Ignoring the tingle along her sensitive nape, she turned around and glared at him, seeing that her hadn't moved an inch, just as she had expected.

"Don't be late, rat."

Turning around, she pulled open the door and left, not bothering to wait for a response even though she could practically feel his chuckle vibrate along her spine, her heart.

_A/N: Sorry that this update took so long you all, this has been a really hectic week with a few parties that left me exhausted the day after. Bad excuse, I know. And I will also be going on vacation in a few days for about a week, but I will have my laptop will me and will probably get a few chapters done in those quiet moments between laying on the beach and eating hordes._

_Don't forget to give suggestions about fics that follow the IOTH movie! And review mwahahaha! _

_Pls!_


	9. No Turning Back

_Author's Note: Hey everyone, I hope life is treating you well. If it isn't give it a smack on the head on me, would ya..._

_Anyway, I know it's been a while but time is such a stubborn little minx isn't she? Here's the next chapter for this story. I forced myself to get down to some writing because of all your lovely reviews and suggestions about post-IOTH fics. Thank you.._

_Let me take the time to say happy belated 18th birthday to DragonFlame27, this chapter is dedicated to you as a little birthday present! This chapter is also longer than the rest, and for that you can thank Jar-Par Fan who demanded MORE! Maybe you will be a little more satisfied this time.. lol.._

_I try to respond to all the reviews and i hope i didn't leave anyone out, at least not intentionally. To all anonymous reviewers thank you and i hope you keep reading. To the rest, you keep a smile on my face..  
_

_Enjoy (this is me optimistic heh..)_

Disclaimer: Refer to Chapter 1..

Keep Running, Chapter 9

No Turning Back  


Ms Parker expected to feel different. As she walked into the Centre, ignoring the salutations of most of the worker bees quickly scurrying out of her way, she expected to have a glaring neon sign on her head declaring that she was now working with Jarod, trilling with carnival tunes to show what a stupid mistake she was making to actually agree to collude with him on this.

Even as she chastised herself into believing that she was only doing this for Angelo's child, that she could not stand by and watch another little boy be manipulated and destroyed by the Centre's machinations, she was also well aware of the lightness in her step, of the small smirk at the corner of her lips that was inspired by pleasure and not abject disdain for her life and the people around her.

Outwardly, she was 'de rigueur' Parker, perfectly coifed hair and pressed suit, her strides strong and determined, the features of her face tight with self-control and deliberate ignorance for those around her as she walked down the hallways of the Centre.

But when she looked at her reflection in the closed elevator doors, the trademark music flowing from the speaker above her in the corner somewhat anti-climatic, she was afraid that her eyes would betray her. The blue-gray seemed softer, the lines at the corners relaxed and there was actually life in those irises.

She stared into those eyes, trying to understand the swirling vibrancy in them, trying to decipher these subtle changes in her stance, in her own soul it seemed.

Parker glanced away, unwilling to believe that this was the influence of the labrat and this rescue mission. Once the boy was out of her cannibal sibling's hands, life would return to as it was.

_If you could call it life.._

Glancing back as the elevator reached her floor, her eyes happened to fall on the scar of the gunshots that killed her mother all those years ago in the wall behind her, the mark's significance hitting her like a sledgehammer.

The parallelism in her situation was glaring, she was stepping into her mother's child, in a way picking up the gauntlet that she had been left with, and for a moment she saw her mother's face from the DSAs morphing into hers, the edges blurred but the features starkly similar.

Tears beginning to prick at the corner of her eyes, her throat tightening with sorrow, she found herself moving quickly through the elevator doors as they slid open, ignoring the looks of surprise thrown her way since they weren't even fully open when she moved through them, determined to get to her office and to Angelo quickly.

_More importantly, to get away from these thoughts.._

_

* * *

_

Jarod did not move for over two hours, his fingers moving quickly and surely over the keyboard and folds of skin appearing between his eyebrows ever so often.

But his eyes stayed focused, his mind quickly assimilating the possibilities even as the soft hum of his laptop echoed in the top floor of the abandoned warehouse he had found close to Parker's home.

He had scouted the area thoroughly, his muscles atrophying instinctively whenever a sight or sound reminded him that he was in Blue Cove; that he had actually willingly walked back into the forest that housed the lion's den.

He knew that his nerves would not release its tight hold on his body, on his consciousness, until he had walked away from this town, from this hell that the common man on the Blue Cove street was oblivious to, relishing instead in the obliviousness that the sea-side winds afforded him.

The same scent and breeze that he had first smelled when Parker had snuck him out to the courtyard one summer night, their hands clutched together in fear that the sweepers or her father would realize what they had done.

Yet his anxiety had been instantly banished from his mind as he reveled in the freedom even in the midst of that concrete enclosure, as he reveled in the beauty of the light breeze against his skin even as Parker's laugh rang out softly at the look of amazement on his face.

Leaning back against the wooden bars that formed the back of his chair, Jarod found himself abruptly distracted by that image in his mind, at the sound of her laughter that echoed in his memory, a feminine siren call in the dark warehouse room.

And his hands tingled as he remembered the soft pad of her palm against his as he had held her hand as if his life depended upon it. And, at that moment, to a boy that had rarely felt human compassion and warmth, her physical closeness had sent a thrill throughout his body and into the very pits of his soul, making him feel the most live he had ever been.

Running a hand over his face, trying to rub both the image and the exhaustion from his skin, Jarod wanted to be angry at himself. That, even after the last two years of running, and of meeting all manners of people who had opened their hearts and home to him, he still could not get Parker out of his heart, out of his soul.

What Jarod feared over all else, the thoughts that appeared in those last moments before he drifted into sleep ever night, was that one day he would no longer be satisfied with memories, that he would want_ more_ than just phantom embraces and emotions..

Pushing away from the desk, he began to pace, trying to push away these thoughts, to willfully ignore their very existence.

Extremely difficult for a genius who revels in untangling the most difficult of conundrums, he mused wryly, rubbing his hand against the back of his neck as he looked down at the dirt-smeared floor, a small grin deepening his trademark dimples.

The conundrum that is Miss Parker.

Barking out a laugh at the different little gifts he could make to torment her based on that little catchphrase, Jarod settled back in his seat, determined to have something to offer before he had to call Parker in a few hours and get entrenched in a SIM to evaluate possible rescue scenarios.

Sighing as a fleeting thought of what would happen between him and Parker once the child was away from the Centre, Jarod only wished that this rescue mission could have an additional target..

* * *

"Angelo? Angelo, I need your help." 

Laying a hand tentatively on his shoulder, surprised somewhat at how easy the movement and contact was for her, Parker tried to get a look at his face.

He seemed to be continuously shying away from her, and even as that was usually a hallmark of Angelo's character around most people, Parker had become accustomed to his apparent lucidity around her when she directed questions at him while she stared right into his eyes, demanding his obeyance.

She had found him in one of the service tunnels, the large structures abandoned now but yet showing signs of habitation and preservation. Instinctively she scoffed at Angelo's naivete to think that anything of the Centre was worth saving, but as she looked at his bent head, his scruffy hair falling all over his face, his grubby hands clutching at his knees as if they were the closest things he had to friends, her heart was clutched in a vice and her grip on his shoulder tightened in her version of compassion.

However, Angelo didn't quite take it that way.

Letting out a soft whimper more reminiscent of a child than a grown man, he jerked away from Parker, using one hand to push himself towards a corner, drawing himself inward into the natural seclusion where two walls met.

"Angelo?"

Placing her hands on her knees for support, Parker pushed herself up, her boots ringing out in the empty cavernous tunnel as she took the steps to close the distance between them.

Her tone was soft and gentle, although she had thought that Angelo knew enough to trust her now. She tried not to let it affect her, getting emotionally involved in anything at the Centre besides her loyalty to her father was a mistake she knew, but still his apparent rejection of her stung.

_Thump, thump, thump…_

Frowning, she brushed aside these thoughts, focused instead on Angelo's strange behaviour. Well, stranger than usual..

He had begun to rock himself side to side, and as he reached the side with a wall, he would let his head connect with it solidly, the sound hollow yet terrifying in the way he seemed absolutely distended from the movement.

"Angelo!"

Bending down at his side, she placed her hands on his shoulders and forcibly pulled his upper body into hers, and even as he begun to struggle against her she kept a stiff hold on him, refusing to allow him to hurt himself.

"Please..No, please..Bad man is coming.."

Abruptly, his features seemed to shift, drawing away from that of a guileless child into the tightness of an adult, his eyes sharpening and his jaw growing tense.

He began to wheeze, loud and insistent.

"Get..him..up."

The words randg out in the stillness of the tunnel, the sound dark and terrible.

Tears running down his face then, Angelo looked to Parker, his eyes tortured and his shoulders jerking as he began to sob.

Parker felt the horror crawling up her spine, slowly wrapping around her limbs and her mind as she realized that Angelo had just shown her a snapshot of his son's treatment and state of mind somewhere in the labyrinth of the Centre.

Watching Angelo cry as if his heart was being torn into shreds, Parker felt sorrow claw at her as well. And, in contradiction to her ice-queen reputation, she felt herself instinctively moving forward, wrapping her arms around his shoulders, rocking him back and forth with her cheek on the top of his head.

Her eyes closing, she let her own tears fall from their corners, running down her nose and the side of her cheeks to fall into his hair, her hold on him tightening although she wasn't sure whether she was offering him comfort, or it was just her effort to hold herself together.

* * *

Over an hour later, Parker found herself outside her office, signing some requisite forms one of the clerks had placed in front of her face. Pushing them back into his chest, ignoring the way he seemed to stumble away she headed straight for those double doors. 

Grateful to be away from prying eyes, she used the palms of her hands to shove at the doors, trying to take out the frustration on the wood.

"Eyow!"

_Ba-thump._

Frowning at the yell she heard from the either side, and at the weight that seemed to have been thrown against the door just as she pushed it open, Parker stepped inside, one hand remaining on the other door.

Arching a brow as she stared down at the cause behind the sound who was sprawled with a look of shock on his face even as he rubbed his palm against his nose, she did not let her amusement show, keeping her features still except for a subtle widening of her eyes as she began to speak.

"Doing a little spring cleaning, Broots?"

Letting the door swing shut, she walked towards her desk, nodding her head to acknowledge Sydney. Standing to the right of the mahogany table, he must have been there for a while now, although the way he casually had his hands tucked into his pants pocket and the small smile on his face belied no impatience.

"Miss Parker!" Broots felt himself begin to stutter even as he scrambled to get off the carpeted floor, one hand underneath him to support him.

"I believe Broots was just about to go look for you, Parker. We expected you here over an hour ago."

"Believe it or not, Syd, unlike the two of you doormats, I actually have a social life.' Throwing him a saccharine grin, she took a seat, reaching for the folders in her 'In' tray.

Stepping forward, looking a little rattled still from his haphazard tumble, Broots was just about to speak when the cell phone she had tossed on her desk began to vibrate, the sound surprisingly jarring.

Holding a finger up to forestall whatever Broots was about to stutter out, Parker reached for it even as she took a glance at the time.

It was 1:30.

Not 2pm.

He was calling at 1:30.

_Damn him.._

"What?"

Pissed, she let her tone show it until the look of interest on Sydney's face at her violent reaction pulled her back. She knew the bigwigs were listening in on her call, probably all craning over one receiver and salivating at the little possible contact they might have with their Pretender.

She had to be extremely careful.

"And I thought you only answered my calls with that monosyllabic little jingle, Miss Parker. Where's the loyalty?"

Leaning back in her cushioned chair, the sunlight streaming in through the windows behind her catching the red in her hair, Parker closed her eyes in what she hoped the other two took to be aggravation when in reality she was steeling herself to put on her greatest performance ever.

Taking a deep breath, she felt a whisper run through her head, the tone final.

_Here we go…_

_ A/N: If you like where this is going still, let me know. Rest assured the next chapter i have in mind will have a little more danger and romance in it. Just to shake things up...mwahahaha..ahem._

_Need i say it? Direct attention to grey button..  
_


	10. You and Me and the Moonlight

_Author's Note: I know this is a long time coming but this summer break is the first holiday I have had in a year so try to find it in your heart to forgive me. I am going to take one story at a time and try to finish it during the next couple of mths. _

Disclaimer: Refer to Chapter 1..

Keep Running, Chapter 10

You and Me and the Moonlight

"For a man who claims he is out to selflessly defend the little guy you seem to take an unholy pleasure in tormenting me, Jarod." Parker kept her eyes trained on those of Sydney's, noticing the way his frame seemed to incline itself instinctively to the call and its source; the Pretender.

Everything in this place revolved around the little rat, around his gifts and his abilities. And he wanted nothing to do with them. For a moment, Parker felt herself despair at the idea that this cat-and-mouse game between the Pretender and the gate-keepers of this concrete hell would never end. Startled at the vise that seemed to grip her heart at the thought of Jarod never being able to find peace and stability, she rebuked herself, at her weakness. Beneath the cool glass of her desk, she fisted her right hand, letting her mother's ring that Parker in her anxiety had twisted such that it now faced inward to her palm press painfully into the fleshy pad of her hand, allowing the pain its diamond pincers caused bring her focus back on the game ahead.

"Perhaps, Jarod,", a saccharine grin accompanied the slow words, "you can never truly escape from the Centre and the child they molded within its walls. He will always be with you." She saw the disapproval flit over Sydney's face but Parker ignored it, confident in the realization that Jarod would understand the reference she made to Angelo's child.

"That child escaped, Parker, both physically and psychologically. The only child you should be worrying about is the little girl who used to tell him stories of the beautiful world outside of those gray walls." Jarod's words were steady, but as he sat in the warehouse where he had spent most of the morning accessing the Centre's mainframe, isolating possible weaknesses in its security and physical infrastructure, his eyes flickered over to an open red file on the metal desk before him. And to the photo it held taped to one of its insides. Miss Parker as a little girl, looking up at her mother and laughing, her arms open wide and trusting, her eyes gleaming with both love and joy.

"Perhaps, there is only one child remaining that demands rescuing." His words soft, they nevertheless rang with the conviction that very little could sway him from.

Parker grit her teeth, inhaling sharply in what she hoped Sydney and Broots took to be instinctual rage instead of its real cause; the pointed ache that had begun to thrum at her heart with his words. She dismissed it, believing it to be a side-effect of her newfound discovery regarding Angelo's child. There was nothing else to be said of it.

_Get your head in the game, Parker.._

"Delusions are never an attractive quality in a grown-man, Jarod" she growled, "but they might just fit in among those in our psych ward. Isn't that just a couple of floors above your old living quarters? I suppose you should feel right at home. I think they even have a round of Bingo at seven, right after a delightful jello dinner. Where is home now, Jarod?" she purred.

"Uhuh, Miss Parker", amusement suffused the chide even as Jarod leaned back against the bed he had been sitting on, resting his weight on one elbow as he allowed the information Parker had just provided him to filter in.

"A meeting between you and me will not come about that easily, Miss Parker. But thank you for this little respite from the digging I have been engaged in all morning. It's back-breaking work. Send my best to Sydney and Broots." Jarod pressed the call-end button, placing the phone at his side on the bed as he let himself lie back fully, the tension that coiled the muscles in his back releasing gently as he sank into the mattress. Staring at the water-damaged plaster of his ceiling, Jarod began to mentally prepare himself for the SIM that lay ahead, replete with the information just collected. The child was in _SL-25._

* * *

With that, all that was left of the Pretender was a distinct dial tone. Parker tossed her cell with a snarl, pushing away from her desk and heading to the bar in the corner of her office. She ignored the stares of the two remaining occupants in the room, the hairs on her neck bristling at their obvious expectation that she would relay all the lab-rat had just spoken to her.

"Broots."

"Yes, Miss Parker?"

"Focus on construction in the county. Anything in the news recently about mishaps or corruption, I want to know about it. Pez-head said something about digging and while it might be a small bread-crumb, he might just be arrogant enough to believe we would sit back and twiddle our thumbs instead of trying all avenues."

Parker turned around to face the computer tech with a crystal scotch-filled glass in her hand. Her gaze widening at his hesitation she barked out, "Now!".

The double-doors of her office swung to-and-fro in the wake of Broots' quick escape. Swinging her gaze to Sydney, Parker noticed that the frown that creased his forehead was not his usual consternation at her treatment of Broots but seemed to accompany a searching gaze.

_He suspects something_..

"Your lab-rat, Sydney, seems to be growing more confident that the Centre will never get its hands on him." One eyebrow raised at the small smile that cracked the doctor's visage, she walked towards him, "Something you would like to share with the class?"

"You have always under-estimated him, Parker."

_If you only knew…_

"Or is it your loyalty to the Centre that I have over-estimated, Sydney? Now that your science project is out there what would you do to bring him back?"

"Or replace him?" The latter words were said in a soft purr as she came to rest an inch from him, her eyes locked on his, her hand fisted around the drink in her hand. She had not taken a sip from it yet but she doubted that he noticed. She wanted to be fully alert for his response.

"Replace Jarod?", the confusion he experienced at her words manifested itself in the way his accent deepened, and his shoulders drew back from her. But Parker saw nothing in his eyes to suggest that he might know something of the project that Angelo's child was a product of. But when it came to Sydney, she felt a niggling worry that her skills at detecting deception was impaired, he had lied to her many a time before and her naïve, childish trust in the man her mother once trusted completely had compelled her then to believe in the lies that fell from his lips.

_What secrets do you keep, Sydney.._

* * *

"Long day?"

The words came from the darkness of the hallway beyond her kitchen. Parker, her stocking-covered legs outstretched such that her feet rested on the coffee table and jacket tossed over the arm of the same couch she lounged on, did not even flinch at them. Not bothering to shift her gaze to source for the body that accompanied the voice, she kept her eyes on the glass of scotch cupped in hands that rested on her lap.

Tilting her head to the side, she shook the glass slightly, deliberately eliciting the sound of ice clinking together, if only to break the silence.

"I have lost the will." She finally spoke aloud, her eyes trained on the depths of the alcohol that called to her.

There was silence, and then the sound of feet softly padding towards the couch, the gentle rustle of leather against skin. And then the whisper of cloth against mahogany as Jarod sat on the table beside her feet.

"Lost the will to what?" the words were gentle, searching.

A self-deprecating smile stretching her lips, Parker shifted her gaze to her toes, unwilling still to look at the pretender.

"I have lost the will to drink." She wriggled her toes, a simple childish gesture that the darkness of the living room just about hid from her if not for the moonlight coming in through the blinds over the bar and slanting through the stained glass of her front door.

"Hallelujah?" she could hear the smile in his tone.

"At my mother's funeral, I watched as daddy's business associates in their expensive suits took out silver flasks and drained them as her casket was lowered into the ground. I had promised myself I would not cry, that I would be strong for mother so I concentrated on those flasks, and on the way all those ghouls seemed to find such enjoyment in each swallow."

Taking a breath against the tears that pricked at the sides of her eyes as she remembered those fateful days, she continued, "After the reception, I watched my father in his study, throwing back glass after glass of what I later realized was whisky. He didn't know I was there, seemingly assured in the knowledge that the bitch of a full-time nanny he had hired for me had tucked me in safe and sound. And after he left, I stole out of the closet I had been hiding in and took the crystal decanter of whisky. I sat right there, on the floor of my father's study and took a sip."

"It burned its way through my body", her hands trailing the way the whisky might have taken, fingers gently skimming over cloth and silk, she stopped at the waistband of her skirt, letting her hand rest there. "I remember I felt that it was like a punch to my stomach, but after a moment it felt that my soul had been soothed. And the more I drank, the easier it was not to cry, to not think about her, to not think about my father." She paused there, wanting to say that right after she had left for boarding school it had made it easier to never think about Jarod as well, the little boy she used to picture as her prince. Childhood dreams of a naïve, stupid girl.

"Now you have lost your will," his words were gravelly, rough with emotion and Parker could not resist looking at him any longer.

Her breath catching in her throat, Parker was not prepared for the onslaught of emotions that ran through her, even causing the muscles in her thighs to tense and jerk. Jarod sat with his arms resting on his knees, his wrists hanging over, hands clasped together. The collar of his leather jacket was up around his ears, but it was the lines of his face and his red-rimmed eyes that had caused such a reaction in the woman he faced. Jaw clenched, muscle ticking away at the corner of his eye as if he barely restrained himself from lashing out at something or someone, his eyes seemed to share in her sense of desolation, in her misery.

"Misery loves company," Parker whispered, her gaze still on his.

"It seems it does." He began to smile. "But you and me, Parker. It's never just been about shared misery. You know that."

A spurt of rage hit her chest. Swinging her legs swiftly off the desk, she made to get up as she snarled, "I am sick and tired of people telling me what I do or do not know! I am sick of being kept in the dark!"

A forceful yank on her arm and Parker was seated again. Glaring at Jarod's fist where it sat wrapped around her upper arm, she felt the burning anger at his action building within her and glorified in the parker-esque rebuke that was coming to her.

"Enough."

The word was short, stark in its simplicity and forcefulness. Parker looked up to find Jarod's face an inch from hers and felt the way his fist clenched and unclenched around her arm reflexively.

"This is not about me, Parker. So stop lashing out at me and turned this anger onto your father, onto the Centre. They are the rightful recipients." His eyes ran over her face, softening as they came to rest on the pulse that beat rapidly at the curve of her throat.

"Not me," these last words were whispered against her cheek as he leaned forward, the little breath from his spoken words causing the strands of her hair that rested there to lift fluidly and fall back.

The electricity that arched between them, and the intense longing that shot through her body at the feel of his lips so close to her cheek was enough to cause Parker to close her eyes and swallow, attempting to regain and wrap her defences around her once again. The same defences that, she resisted the knowledge even as it came to her in startling clarity, that lay shattered around her at his proximity and at his words.

His head tilting to afford him a better view of her profile, Jarod's eyes were shadowed, with desire and with desperation. For all the times he had tried to get through to her, something in him told him this would be one of the most crucial. Letting his right fist unwrap from her arm, he watched as it rose to her other cheek, his eyes flickering and then following as his fingers ran down that soft warm cheek, and came to rest at the curve of her jaw, at the pulse. He took a deep breath, trying to regain some of the focus he came to her house with, only to be consumed by her scent, deep and sweet.

_Lavender.._

Parker felt her throat constrict at his touch, and her nerves leap as his fingers came to rest at a sensitive spot on her neck. She could feel ever nerve in her body begin to thrum in response to the heat the emanated from him, from the way his breath seemed to hitch as he breathed her in. Her head was yelling at her, yelling something about Parkers, and about betrayal, but its yells were distant and getting softer with each breath.

The right hand that had been trailing down her cheek fell to her waist, resting at the curve and wrapping itself around the slim frame. Slight pressure forced her to lean closer to him, and his left hand came to rest at the nape of her neck now, urging Parker to look at him. But Parker kept her eyes closed, savouring the sweet tension in her body, the way it made her feel alive in ways she had never thought she could ever experience again. She licked her dry lips, and jerked at the soft groan that erupted from Jarod, her eyes springing open.

Those chocolate orbs caught her gaze and Parker forgot about the Centre, she forgot about her father and about Tommy. She could only see the man in front of her and the world his touch seemed to open up to her.

There was a moment of stillness, and then it seemed something broke in the Pretender and he moved swiftly forward, his head angling such that he could capture her lips. Swift and forceful, yet the kiss was deep and gentle, teasing her to join him. Parker's hand of its own volition rose to rest on his check, caressing the rough bristles, opening her mouth to his tongue.

Parker felt herself giving a little hum even as her other hand rose to rest on his shoulder. Jarod, wanting more of her, wanting more of this moment, shifted such that she rested between his parted legs, the hand that rested at her waist pulling her such that her body pressed against his. He felt both her hands stretch to reach behind his neck, her fingers running through the hair at the back of his neck and he could not help the rough groan that escaped him. Her touch, it was so much more than he had ever thought he could feel.

One arm around her back, Jarod used his other to reach for one of her thighs, urging one leg to fall on his thigh, the foot coming to rest on the table behind his butt. Following his que, her lips devouring his now, Parker used the leverage of that one leg to begin to shift the other to do the same. They moved in synchrony, both of Jarod's hands resting on her thighs now such that both of her legs wrapped themselves around his waist and he could lean forward into her, pushing her back into the couch.

Parker could barely think, his entire body and mind consumed by the electrifying emotions that sang and ran through her like tidal waves. She kept her lips fused to his, then coming up for air even as his hands continued to run along her thighs and body. He moved in to kiss her again but an incessant trilling began to break into the world they had built for themselves. Pushing away from Jarod, she stared at him, her lips pulsing from his kisses and reality beginning to run its cold, cruel fingers along her consciousness.

**_A/N: Should i continue?? _**


	11. Struggling Towards the Light

_Author's Note: Thank you all for your reviews, I love putting my little day-dreams of our favourite duo on paper. Here's the next chappy.. _

Disclaimer: Refer to Chapter 1..

Keep Running, Chapter 11

Struggling Towards the Light

Parker's cell-phone was on the bar-table beside her front door.

She tore her eyes away from Jarod's, the rhythmically blinking screen and distinct vibration of the phone against the wood a welcome distraction from the terror that was beginning to grow within her. She attempted to disentangle herself from the position she rested in within the pretender's arms, every slide of skin and cloth as loud as gun-shots in the silence of her living room. Even as she kept her eyes averted from his she was painfully aware of every movement he made, the way the muscles in his chest and arms coiled and released as they assisted in moving her off the couch. Their breaths sawing through their throats, and the way her damn lips just seemed to keep pulsing from his kisses meant that for now there could be no escape from the knowledge of what they had just done, of what she had been willing to do. 

_I must be out of my bloody mind… _

Getting enough leverage to push off the couch, Parker just about lunged for the cell-phone. Swiftly pressing the green call button, she walked away from the bar, and from Jarod, keeping her head down as she spoke.

"What?"

"Angel?"

She froze. Horror began to gnaw at her insides even while the cynical part of her wanted to chuckle and yell that ofcourse, ofcourse it was her father calling. God always did have a wicked sense of humour when it came to her, so who else but the venerable Mr Parker to call and interrupt the very moment his daughter was in the midst of betraying him.

"Daddy?" she whispered, resisting the urge to turn and meet Jarod's gaze now, to see how he took in this ironic turn of events. But what really kept Parker from turning to him was the realisation that what she desired was the reassurance she would see in his gaze, reassurance which was in itself built of a complicity between the two of them, the hunter and its prey.

"Ah, Angel, I was hoping to catch you before you went to bed. I heard you got a call from Jarod today?" the words were pleasant, unrushed and seemingly innocent. They could have been talking about a garden party or a family dinner if one just focused on that tone. But they caused an instant frown to develop between Parker's eyes and even as she turned to look unseeingly out her front bay windows, her mind assimilated the possibilities behind his question.

"I did, daddy, and made that clear in the daily report I faxed over to your office before I left. I was sure you received it. Why are you calling, Daddy?" Her enquiry was worded with no hint of an accusation or the worry that was began to pit in her stomach.

What caused this growing trepidation was the reality that she never got late-night calls from her father, and he had never before made the effort to follow up on any of her reports about Jarod's phone calls since after all, he had a taping of each and everyone of them, and was either too ignorant or arrogant enough not to care if his daughter came to the natural conclusion that the Center did tap her phones . A couple of years ago, she would have welcomed any contact between her father and herself, would have cherished the moments and the words, but lately she found herself scrutinizing his every action towards her as if he were the enemy.

Sometimes Parker wondered if her life could possibly get any more dysfunctional.

"No, no, I got the report. Your diligence, as always, is commendable," a little chuckle accompanied the statement, a chuckle that would have been reminiscent of a parent sharing his pleasure at a child's natural accomplishments if not for the tension that seemed to underlie it. It was nearly indistinguishable, but Parker's training as a sweeper before being plunged into the seedy world of the Center's corporate division allowed her to pick up on it easily enough.

"I just thought I would check if you had come up with any leads from this contact with him. Angel, I don't have to remind you of what an asset Jarod is to the Center and that his retrieval is our top priority. He must be returned to where he rightfully belongs at all costs."

"Daddy," she kept her frustration at this rhetoric from invading her tone, keeping it soft and pleasant, "I am well aware of my duties at the Center. I have Broots looking into several leads and if he comes up with anything solid I will be on the first jet out of here. Getting Jarod back is my first priority. The words meant nothing now, having been said to many time too count. She ignored the reason why she had deliberately left out the words "Jarod back to the Center." This was not the time to scrutinize her words too closely. 

"Ofcourse, Angel, I know that you will never let me down. You have always made me proud and it gives me such pleasure to know with all certainty that the Center will be in good hands when I leave. Your brother and you will make the perfect leaders."

"But, Daddy.."

Parker realized her protest fell on death ears.

The single-toned dial signal that was all that was left of her father's communication with her seemed to mock her, manifesting the reality that was her relationship with Mr Parker. Selective hearing; she was heard only when it suited his needs, and when it didn't she was dismissed from his attention, rudely and without mercy.

* * *

He had remained seated all throughout her conversation with her father.

She might not have wanted to look at him as she struggled away , but Jarod had kept his eyes on her bent head, and had watched her hands at it pushed at his chest, or clutched at his shoulders to leverage herself off. His body had been roiling with emotions, every nerve attuned to her touch and the memory of her kisses, of her skin. Yet, the look on her face when she jerked away at the sound of the call, it had been a lance through his body as well, making him question the sanity of his actions.

When he had heard her whisper "Daddy", the words soft and tremulous, he could not control the surge of revulsion that seemed to seep through his frame from his soul, spreading all through him. He had looked down, his eyes on his hands clasped between his knees, his shoulders slumped in his dark leather jacket. The word signified so much that Mr. Parker had made an abject mockery of, and for her to provide him with such unjustified loyalty and devotion, it was all Jarod could do not to take her in his arms and shake her till she came to her senses. If only to keep her from getting hurt again and again.

_This is not what you came here for, Jarod... _

Jarod heard the quiet click as she hung up, his head coming up to gaze at her back. She tossed the phone onto a low chest of drawers that sat close to the curve of the wall leading to the corridor that culminated in her bedroom. Her hands coming to rest on her waist, her head seemed to of its own volition fall such that her chin just about rested on her chest. Dark curtains of hair concealed any hint of her expression from him, but the way her back remained ramrod straight and the deep sigh that escaped her within seconds was enough to let him know the call had affected her more than he should question if he valued his life. 

_I think I might prefer her spitting-mad instead of this.. _

"He knows."

Startled, Jarod jerked his eyes to what he could see of her face.

"He knows what?" He asked, fearing the answer. His jaw tight, he felt the muscle to the right of his forehead jerk.

"He knows something is up, that something was not right with the call today. Maybe I did not veil my hints as well as I should have, or some of what you said rang odd to him but he suspects something." She turned to face him as she spoke, and he watched as she took a deep breath, and subtly stiffened her shoulders before she met his gaze. 

What was between them, or could be between them could wait. He understood that well enough from her demeanour. Jarod decided that for now the focus should rightly remain on what he had come to Blue Cove to accomplish.

"Other than giving you a call, what do you think he would do to alleviate his suspicions?" he had some thoughts of his own, but Parker knew her father's tactics well enough by now to predict his next steps.

"He will keep Raines out of it for now, the two of them won't share information unless absolutely necessary especially now that the Triumvirate is watching their every move to gauge if the successor for the next term at the Center should be one or the other. Lyle is the wild-card, he has done all he can to mark out his territory on my father's butt by now and his lips aren't going to give up their spot any time soon. My father might trust him enough to ask him to take some steps to ensure the call was as innocent as I am making it out to be, maybe shadow my movements and phone activity for the next couple of days."

Parker began to pace, her mind ticking off the different possibilities even as her heart began to pick up its beat. The fear that she might have jeopardized their chances to get into the Center and leave with the child safely was unacceptable to her perfectionist character. She had to defuse the situation.

Jarod watched her, her movements were sharp and confident, strength in every yard that she covered with her long legs but in the way her fingers would imperceptibly jerk, her hands moving from a position at her waist to her sides with ever turn, he knew that she worried that this would mean the end of their mission, and inside that brain of hers the self-flagellation would begin.

"Parker." He drew out her name.

"What?" she spun to look at him, ready for a fight, her eyes on fire.

"All we have to do is assimilate this into our plans. This does not mean that our objective is defeated." He remained seated, his eyes locked on hers, not making any large movements because he knew that any excuse for her to get into a physical confrontation with him she would take, if only to distract her from what she felt inside.

Letting out a slow breath, he watched as the fight seemed to drain from her eyes, leaving only resolve and alertness. Moving to sit back on the couch, she appeared open to what he had to say, though he noticed the way she deliberately refused to sit back in the exact same position she had been before, keeping a significant amount of space between herself and Jarod.

"Alright, what's the plan genius?"

* * *

Parker maneuvered her car into the Center parking lot, and while on the outside all one could observe of the ice-queen was her dark wrap-around sunglasses and perfectly rouged lips and starkly-outlined porcelain-like cheekbones, what an outsider would have missed was that behind those frames her eyes moved to take in all of her surroundings, catalouging everything both swiftly and expertly.

The two male employees walking with clip-boards toward the back stairwell, the camera that was positioned such that it could observe that particular stairwell and security guard rolling fluidly by in his little golf-cart.

Sliding her keys out of the ignition, she took a deep breath as she reached for her bag and briefcase. She felt her body switching into what she used to refer to in her sweeper-days as attack-mode, a less than adequate label for her state of being just before she would plunge into a dangerous situation, her mind trained to predict the response of her prey or to instantly track its movements.

"Let's go!"

Parker's head jerked up at the yell, the grip around her briefcase tightening such that her nails bit into its leather. She watched in her rearview mirror as two large, muscle-bound hulks of men burst out of the stairwell and took a quick lope to their sedan, their suit-jackets flapping to accommodate their movements. Eyes narrowing, she knew one of them looked familiar to her and then it hit her. She had a flashback, remembered the image of Angelo's child being dragged from under her desk. In her mind, she freeze-framed that image and allowed her eyes to track up the dark, brawny arm whose hand roughly clasped the scrawny child's thin limb, up his shoulder and his wide shoulders to his face.

_Lyle's sweeper.._

A swift intake of breath was the only outwardly manifestation of this realization. Something was wrong with this picture, she could feel it in every nerve of her body and Parker never ignored her instincts.

Yesterday before she had left the office she had commandeered a random computer at one of the work stations on her floor and had used Lyle's password to check on his active assignments at the moment. Most of them required his attention at corporate meetings or at business dinners, none would compel him to send his two best sweepers running for their sedan.

For a moment, she wanted to reach for her phone to call the number Jarod had given her. It reached a random laundry place down in Chinatown, but it would be enough to alert Jarod that she meant for the plan to be called off, then and there. What kept her from doing that was the knowledge that one, she did not really know what Lyle was up to; those two sweepers could simply be tasked with cleaning up one of his latest cannibalistic culinary adventures and two, this was their best opportunity to get in, get the kid out and get lost. To lose that chance would be to stall the plan for days and Parker did not want a repeat of Angelo's performance of the treatment the child had to endure while within the Center's walls.

Roughly jerking her door open, she slid off her leather car seat and stepped out, feeling the silk of her skirt stretch and release as she straightened. Parker had dressed perfectly as always, but she remembered that even as she had stared this morning at herself in her bathroom mirror, at her perfectly coifed hair and pressed suit, she had looked for the signs that last night's 'incident', as she forced herself to refer to it as, had somehow left its mark on her. She looked no different, she had decided.

Parker had begun to turn away from her bathroom-mirror when she had suddenly jerked. Her eyes had fallen onto the skin of her neck, and below her right ear, right where the neck began to curve into the shoulder was a bright red, raw mark. It screamed its knowledge, it bellowed its testament to their passion. She placed her fingers over it, trying to ignore the tingle that seemed to run through her swiftly and the instant image she had of Jarod's face in the crook of her neck, his lips tasting her skin, his eyes closed and his arms caressing her arms, her body.

Parker had stared at herself in the mirror in that moment and knew she could not fool herself into believing the events of the last couple of days had not changed her. It was in her eyes, in its swirling vibrancy where it was only filled with hot rage before and in the way the lines about her mouth seemed to have softened, seemed to have allowed her lips to align itself into a position more susceptible to being kissed.

_Ridiculous..naïve, stupid little girl.._

"Miss Parker?"

The voice spun her back into reality and she found herself face to face with Broots. He stood before her, tweed jacket and all, with his bicycle being rolled along beside him, his eyes earnest and his hands clasped over a folder he held clutched to his chest.

"Miss Parker, you okay? You seem a little distracted."

If Broots could sense her discomfort and distraction this morning, one of Lyle's dumb-as-wood goons would have no problems, she thought with self-disgust.

"Don't get your panties in a bunch Broots. What do you have for me?", brushing past him as she spoke, Parker fished in her jecket-pocket for her pack of cigarettes, ignoring the scuffles behind her as the computer-tech scrambled to keep up with her and keep his bike upright at the same time.

"Well, I did what you asked me to and I found three incidents of construction mishaps that made the local news.." Parker began to tune him out as she headed for the stairwell and lit up, her heels making a rhythmic, sharp contact with the cement of the parking garage, echoing in the early-morning stillness.

_Except for Lyle's sweepers a minute ago.._

Using both hands to push at the heavy stair-well door, cigarette held between two fingers of her right hand, she turned to watch as Broots began to chain up his bike. He was still yammering away..

"Did you check if they had anyone new on the crew? Anyone with the intiial J, perhaps?"

Broots movements stilled, and his cheeks began to colour.

"Then get to it, Broots, before I put you into a different kind of hard labour. Don't come to me unless you have names and photos, got it?" Without waiting for a response she turned and began to ascend stairs, knowing she had quite an act to put on for most of the day before it got to the point where she had to make her way to SL-25, disengage the security system from the control room on that level, allowing it to only loop a recording Jarod had of another similar corridor, only one that had less security and had allowed him to access its tapes easily enough, before she intercepted Jarod as he entered from the vents. He knew the plans for the level, where the kid was kept and what it would take to get him out. She refused to think of what she would have to do after they got the child successfully out of the Center because that was a long shot by itself.

_Yet, even if I have to die trying._

If disturbed her that she was willing to give up so much for a child she did not know, for a mission that meant an outright betrayal of her father and the legacy he hoped to give to her.

_A legacy of blood, evil and cruelty.._

"Oomph!"

Parker's thoughts were interrupted as she turned a corner of the stairs and smacked into someone on their way down. Or that's what she thought until she looked up at saw who it was.

_Speaking of evil.._

"Hey, sis." Lyle grinned widely, his eyes shining with devilry.

* * *

_  
A/N: How is the plot line so far? The things is i enjoy capturing emotions of the moment instead of complex plot lines so if you have any ideas regarding the plot i am all ears. Please review.  
_


	12. Keep Running and Never Look Back Part 1

_Author's Note: I am excited about this chapter and the next one I am working on now. This is only part 1 so don't expect all of the action to be found here. Hope you enjoy it..By the way, some of my descriptions of venues in the Center are different from what they are in the TV series, I hope you can get past that.  
_

Disclaimer: Refer to Chapter 1..

Keep Running, Chapter 12

**Keep Running and Never Look Back Part 1**

Parker was on her knees.

One palm flat against the hard gray cement floor beneath her, she felt the coldness of it begin to seep into the fragile bones of her palm and wrist, intensifying the aches from new bruises as the lancing cold traveled up her right arm. And then there was the wet, a pool of deep ruby red spreading around that palm, traveling deep into the creases of skin, tinting her nails a sickly pink.

The other palm rested against flesh, warm pulsing flesh that screamed its agony and shrieked its indignation at being mutilated. There was silence around her, a deep pitiless silence except for her. Her groans, her hitched breathing, the rustle of her clothing as she rocked back and forth once as if she could wish away the pain.

She groaned and forced herself to increase the pressure she placed on the area of skin around the hilt.

"Argh!" she screamed, leaning back nearly onto her haunches as she did so, her face turning to the ceiling as she saw white spots invade the blackness behind her closed eyelids. Her hair, matted with sweat and grime from the crawl through the air vents, fell around her face, framing it with dark stringy strands. Her expensive cotton black pants stretched to accommodate her movement, the waistband tightening and causing shooting pains as it pressed into the skin in proximity to the fresh wound.

She looked down, watched as streams of blood seemed to converge at a point on the end of the hilt, watched as the bulbous drop of crimson seemed to pause before it plunged, splattering softly against the cement.

The pressure helped, after the initial burst of pain that ripped through her senses, causing her to gasp, a helpless gasp that approached a whimper, her body seemed to reach a calm, an equilibrium built by adrenaline and determination. Parker glanced behind her as she heard voices and running feet, the sounds echoing in the cavernous corridors, her eyes swirling with pain and tears.

Looking back at the retreating figures in the corridor ahead of her, Parker's eyes met those of the young boy clutched in the arms of the black-clothed Jarod, the cherubic face rhythmically jostled against the shoulder it rested against as Jarod picked up speed and lunged around the next corner.

Keeping her eyes fixed on that image in her mind, she slowly let her hand wrap itself around the bloody hilt of the knife, fingers stiff and tight against the black, tough rubber. Taking a deep sawing breath, in one swift movement she pulled the lethal knife out of her abdomen.

And screamed.

* * *

EARLY THAT SAME MORNING

"Hey, sis." Lyle grinned widely, his eyes shining with devilry.

"I don't have time for this Lyle. Get out of my way." Parker snapped, making to move past him. A part of her wanted to give him the fight he was begging for, but she knew Lyle had probably been sent by her father, just as she had expected, and was on a fishing expedition. Parker was not in the mood to play their games this morning. 

Lyle moved swiftly, predicting her movement and countering it such that he still remained on the step above her and she had nowhere to go.

"Oh come on, you should always have time for family. And from what I hear, life on the work-front has been pretty dull anyway. Jarod must be losing interest in having you chase him. Can't imagine why," leaning closer, his lips nearing hers and his eyes attempting to see past the shades she still had on, he whispered, "you're the only woman I know who could make a drab funeral suit look so," he paused, "beautiful".

Parker watched his lips, carved among what most on initial scrutiny would consider aristocratic features, as they formed the last word, her body stiff and unwilling to shy away at his deliberate move to physically intimidate her.

But she invited in the disgust, surging through her bloodstream and clouding her eyes.

Lyle never saw her coming. One palm plunged at his chest, pounding against the bones above his heart and causing him to stumble back, the hands he had tucked into the suit-pants of his latest Armani coming up instinctively to counter the balance he lost. As he did Parker took one quick step forward, her other hand shooting out and striking at his larynx, the movement both seemingly lethal and ferocious.

Lyle's eyes bulged as he felt the walls of his trachea temporarily collapsed inward, the helplessness evidenced in the way his hands instinctively let go of the stair banister he had clutched at in order to maintain his balance, reaching instead for his throat, wrapping around it as he began to choke.

Parker watched him impassively, making no move to help him, and she felt no remorse at having hurt what she had been told to believe was her flesh and blood, her twin. Stepping past him, as he lay collapsed against the side of the stairs, his back against the bars stretching down from the banister, she was about to leave him sitting there when she had a thought. She turned around, her heels striking solidly against the step and she saw Lyle flinch as he realized she was not leaving him alone yet.

Taking a step back down such that she now stood above his seated body, her gaze resting on his bent head, she pushed her sunglasses off her nose and onto her hair, and crouched down, her pants riding up to reveal slim pale ankles above the sturdy boots she had on. Parker placed her right hand on the top of Lyle's head, and clenched, grabbing tufts of his hair in her fingers as she roughly yanked his head back.

Leaning her head down such she spoke directly into his ear, him helpless to move away, that helplessness amplified by the fact that he could not see her or what she planned to do with him as manifested by the look in her eyes. He could only listen.

"Take this as a warning Lyle," punctuating his name with a painful jerk, "when it comes to you, I never hesitate at lining up a kill-shot. You know that. Mess with me again and history is going to come back to bite you in the ass, only this time I will feed your carcass to the rottweillers on Center compound to make sure you stay dead." She gave into the snarl, her words sharp and plainly exhibiting the truth of those words, and tossed his head away from her, wiping that hand slowly and deliberately against her pant leg as she rose.

She continued her journey up, ignoring the loud thump she heard moments later from what she assumed was Lyle's fist pounding into the steel bars of the hand-rail.

* * *

MID-AFTERNOON

Parker was beginning to crack.

She knew that once she had to move swiftly and surely she would not hesitate, and her movements would be precise and effective. But it was this waiting that buffeted at the calm that was at the center of her character in times of crisis.

She tried not to watch the clock.

She bossed Broots around, she finished up on volumes of paperwork, and she even thought about joining some coworkers for lunch in the Center cafeteria just to pass the time. That thought had been dismissed as quickly as it had come to her, built of the realization that such a move would have been seen as a departure from her usual routine, and it would have been flagged as such by those watching her.

Parker knew someone was watching her, she knew that Lyle would have returned empty-handed to her father and her father would have, in what he likely construed as diligence, ordered several of his sweepers to take over one of the Center's surveillance control booths in order to keep track of her movements. So Parker kept her appointments, and rudely dismissed the temps that came up to her to get her to sign documents and only stayed long enough in Sydney's office to make anyone watching believe she was looking for updates on the search for Jarod, a review of Sydney's latest report.

What those watching her she was sure did not notice was when she motioned Sam aside as she walked back to her office from Sydney's and when they were out of both the view and earshot of the cameras, told him to get both Broots and Sydney to leave the Centre by seven today, told him to make sure that they did not leave at the same time and that both gave valid reasons for leaving early.

"Can I trust you to do that, Sam?"

Parker kept her eyes trained on the few people that strode past the corner the two of them had ducked around. Sandwiched between a lady's toilet and an old storage closet, it provided a useful blind spot against the cameras.

Sam, stocky and well-built, his face impassive and his eyes not for a second belying the curiousity that pricked at him at the realization that his boss was up to something, something obviously dangerous, responded to her in a soft monotone.

"Ofcourse, Miss Parker. Is there anything else you would like done?"

Miss Parker glanced at him, her eyes flickering over his frame, pausing for a moment on the obvious bulge of his side-arm against his suit-jacket.

Sam understood instantly.

"When?" he spoke steadily even while his heart picked up its pace. For Miss Parker to ask for his help under the Center radar was not necessarily rare, but for her to be this cautious about letting her intentions be known, and her action in getting Sydney and Broots out of here told him that something big was going down. His loyalty remained stolidly with his beautiful woman that had suffered enough at the machinations of the head brass of this concrete hell and he intended to ensure she got out of here alive.

Parker handed him a file that she had been carrying, and taped to the inside were the blue-prints of SL-25, a room circled with a thick-red marker pen and on the top right-hand corner a note that stated in thick bold words, "Transfer from infirmary to living quarters at 1900".

_She was getting someone out of the Center.._

Sam looked back up at her, his eyes never for a moment questioning her actions and choices.

Miss Parker for a moment could not contain the small smile that came to her lips as her eyes met his. She had affection for this quiet man, whom she knew she could trust with her life. And trust was so rare a commodity in Parker's world.

"Do not get involved unless something goes wrong and you know I need you to. I want you to have plausible deniability if at all possible."

Without another word, she turned and stepped out of the alcove, her chin up, her eyes forward, her stature implying she had simply walked out of the ladies room and was heading straight back to her office.

Sam watched her leave, knowing he would have to wait a couple of minutes before he made a move out of the alcove. He watched as she adopted the persona he knew so well, as she wrapped it around herself and made sure it ensured that no one would see anything different in Miss Parker today.

Glancing back down at the file, he stepped back into the deep shadows, the lines of his form melding into the darkness. And he waited.

* * *

1800 HOURS

Parker had made sure to show surprise when Broots had ducked into her office and explained that Debbie's aunt, who took care of her in the afternoons after school and was 'quite-a-lady', had called and said the little girl had unexpectedly taken sick and needed to be taken to the family doctor immediately. Worried and his words jerky, he was all but tripping all over himself.

Parker had met his eyes squarely, saw the confusion and the questions, but side-stepped any foolhardy move to gain answers by moving to him and advising him to go to his daughter immediately. She turned back to her desk as he left, picking up the silver-framed photo of her mother and her as a child even as she felt Broots take a last glance back at her before her double-doors swung softly shut.

Sydney had merely left a message and that confused her. Of the two of them, she would have expected him to have been the more stubborn, to have attempted to solicit some answers from her, to take her aside and ask her what was going on and what she had gotten herself into. She had come to expect this of Sydney and she was surprised at the disappointment that ate at her at what she took to be indifference.

Brushing aside these thoughts, she logged onto her Center email account and kept herself busy. But while her gaze was focused on the screen before her, her thoughts were on the movements she would have to make in less than an hour. Her mind went through them, sifting through the details and the specifics because she knew there were lives at stake, there was Jarod's freedom at stake. Throughout the day the understanding had begun to dawn on her that not only would she give her life to ensure that the child would not have to remain within these walls but that the thought of Jarod a prisoner again within these walls would kill her in itself and she could not let that happen. While this realization might have solidified her determination to see this through, they confused her as to where she would be in the aftermath of the retrieval.

_Mama, I'm lost.._

* * *

1815 HOURS

Jarod walked towards the glass-paned doors, and at his proximity they slid open fluidly and automatically, allowing a gust of cool air to come rushing out at him, licking at his skin and inviting him into the lobby that awaited him.

His boots sinking into the plush carpet that lined the entire surface of the marble-walled lobby, Jarod looked around with interest, his eyes taking in the receptionist with her hair-sprayed tower of hair and her thin red lips speaking rapidly into the head-set pressed against the right side of her face. The dark leather couches situated among large green ferns cutting the area off from the rest of the lobby, along with the two tall dark men dressed in their ethnic garb conversing with one another as they waited for their elevator to arrive completed the image of an average lobby of an up-scale office building.

Except perhaps for the men in suits.

_Sweepers.._

Two of them were stationed by the side of the security gate that led to the elevators, their eyes continuously scanning the different occupants of the Center's gilded lobby as they made their way towards the elevators, signing in at the receptionists' counter if guests or scanning their card at the security gate if employees. 

_Jarod was back in the Center.._

_  
_

* * *

_A/N: any thoughts??  
_


	13. Keep Running and Never Look Back PArt 2

_Author's Note: I know it's been a while but the next part's pretty crucial so I'm trying really hard to get it up to my standards. But since it has plot points and action, instead of just emotional moments a second at a time, I'm tripping all over myself. On a happy note, I have two chapters for you so pls pls tell me all the work was worth it! Enjoy.._

Disclaimer: Refer to Chapter 1..

Keep Running, Chapter 13

Keep Running and Never Look Back Part 2

**1815 HOURS**

The cold air rushing in from the large air-conditioning systems in the ceiling above him in the lobby was a constant hum in the background, and while its gusts of winds should have lapped at his hot skin, cooling it, the heat that was building underneath his skin, a testament to his rushing blood and galloping heartbeat, seemed to be impervious to its effects.

This was the part of the plan that Jarod disliked the most.

All of it had him within the Center's walls of course, but having to walk into the Center in broad daylight, through its front entrance no less, it made his skin crawl, it made his insides twist and it was all that he could do to keep himself from grimacing openly. But the air vents that had once been his source of freedom were now lined with sensors and the only way to disable them without alerting anyone monitoring the security mainframe was from the main control booth found on this lobby, behind those sweepers, behind that security gate and in wide-open view of all who occupied this area.

_Pity for them I simply love challenges.._

Adjusting the large bag he carried in his right hand, its brown leather weathered and creased from apparent long use, Jarod tilted his head down and slid the cap he held in his left hand smoothly over his shortly cropped hair. It was enough for him to slip into the role he needed for this part of the operation, enough for his heartbeat to slow to a normal pace, for his skin to start to feel the cool from the air-conditioning unit.

There was a comfort in the world Jarod inhabited as he plunged himself into his pretends, and it was a way of life that had become so much an inherent part of him that it made him despair of ever achieving a life distinct from the roles he had to play, of ever moulding a character distinct from those he called home for short periods of time.

But these thoughts had no place in the here and now.

As for the cap, it was simple, non-descript and of a tan colour, but once he slipped it on, his features seemed to shift, the skin around his eyes creasing further as they narrowed perceptibly behind thick-lensed glasses with thin wire frames, one broken end of it held together by a common wrap-around rubber-band. The skin around his chin and neck seemed to sag a little, his lips pressed together tightly and its ends turned down as if he had lived a life of boredom, booze and unrewarding work.

A protruding belly over the old leather belt that pinched into the skin of his stomach, and caused his pants to sag at an angle, barely distracted from the garish tattoos that ran along his right arm, plainly apparent since the sleeve of his work-shirt had been deliberately rolled up.

It was enough.

Jarod had been a little more circumspect about his physical appearance in this mission for obvious reasons, using the skills he had learned as a make-up artist on a production set to create an image of a typical electrician. It was a classic role played by anyone attempting to covertly infiltrate any high-security setting in the open, but Jarod was a firm believer that classics earned their name for a damn-good reason.

Making his way to the receptionists desk, his mind ticked off the minutes. He had no need for a watch or to even glance at the clock on the piece of marble above the elevators. All he needed was there in his head.

He presented the service slip to the receptionist, glancing at her name tag.

"Hey there, I was called into to help with some short-circuiting in the lobby? Could you point the way, Glenda?" he presented her with a wide-smile, but just as he expected she barely glanced at him before picking up her desk phone, conveying news of his arrival.

Leaning against the polished wood of the high-desk, he glanced around with apparent interest at the opulent surroundings. Digging into his shirt-pocket with its patch that declared him to be a "Doug", he pulled out a piece of what looked like average nicotine gum and popped it into his mouth, beginning to chew with abandonment.

He felt eyes on him, but those were born of instincts molded by his years as a pretender and so he did not turn to search for who it might be, did not show any outward indication he was aware of the attention.

"Straight through there."

Sliding the service slip back to him, Glenda passed him a pass card with a perfunctory jerk of the thumb, clearly expecting him to be on his way.

Jarod had not foreseen any complications at this juncture, he had manufactured the service call to the Center's usual electrician outfit and discreetly placed a false memo of it on the security mainframe. Before anyone would realize that Mark Haffernan, a lowly systems analyst at the Center, did not place the call, Jarod, and he hoped his motley crew, would be miles away from Blue Cove.

Pushing away from the desk, he gave a role-inspired "Thank ya, Glenda" and reached for his work-bag before cutting a path for the security gate.

The muscles at the back of his neck might have tensed, but the rest of him was unaffected as he felt the full onslaught of the sweepers' attention on him.

"Hey there, fellas. Now what do I do with this?" he held up his newly-acquired pass card at them, his eyes dull and uninterested as to why there would be two-darkly suited men with guns present at the lobby of what most believed was an average research facility.

Without a word, one sweeper stepped forward, took the card and Doug the electrician's bag from him, and passed it to the other sweeper who began to search through the contents of the leather case. The remaining sweeper began to pat Jarod down, but it was a half-hearted job which told him that his chosen role had been effective so far.

**1830 HOURS**

As the sun set behind her, its orange and yellow strokes streaming through the thick glass and half-open blinds and coming to rest at slanted lengths across her desk, Parker logged off her computer and began to pack up, reaching for her metal briefcase and her purse. She cursed as a file that had been resting on the edge of her desk fell and papers from it streamed across the floor at her feet. Remaining seated, she bent over to reach for them.

But insead of reaching for the papers, Parker slipped a small silver key out from the cuff of her sleeve and used it to unlock the bottom drawer of her desk, sliding it open smoothly..

Most of her upper body and head hidden behind her desk from the view of the camera situated in the top north-east corner of her office, she reached to push aside the items in the drawer, feeling for the bottom. Finding the pressure point two inches from the right corner, she pushed it gently and a small part of the bottom popped up. Reaching in, she removed the small revolver, small enough to barely cover her palm, and a lethal switch-blade, finely honed with a black rubber hilt. Both already attached to an ankle holster, the hand-gun was not of Center-issue and was deliberately unregistered. 

It paid to have your own secrets in the Center, Parker had come to learn that all too well.

Quickly wrapping it around her ankle, the Velcro new and doing its magic quickly enough, she tugged the edge of her pants down to conceal them and swiftly pulled together the fallen papers that were her decoy into a pile before coming back up. Her face showed no emotion except for the expected frustration at her own clumsiness, and dumping the file into one of the trays, with a certain leashed power she pushed away from the desk and stood. Leaning over to turn her desk-lamp off, her eyes fell onto the single framed photo on her desk.

It was barely a second, no one behind the camera would have picked it up, and even if they had it could have easily been explained away since Parker's grief at her mother's death was well-known although not spoken aloud at the risk of inviting her wrath, but it was enough for Parker's heart to ache at the knowledge that life had indeed come full-circle. Here she was, picking up, in a way, where her mother had left off in attempting to rescue a child trapped within the Center's clutches.

There had been a part of her who, on discovering her mother's murder and how it might have come in the wake of a burgeoning plan to rescue Jarod had resented her mother for choosing Jarod and possible death over life and her daughter. But those were cries of a young girl still grieving within Parker and they came in those moments after her first drink in the darkness of her living room and before she fell into a deep drunken sleep.

_Is this your doing? _

Brushing these maudlin thoughts aside, her musings began to shift to the crucial minutes ahead. Briefcase in one hand, purse in the other she strode to the doors to her office. Her heels thumped soundly against the carpet in the silent growing darkness of the room, and then there was the quiet click of the door as it closed, seemingly resounding with finality.

**1840 HOURS**

Jarod stripped off the electrician outfit both swiftly and efficiently in the darkness of the control booth that the sweepers had escorted him to. His incessant chatter as they escorted him probably motivated them to return to their posts as quickly as possible.

_I don't think they liked me.._

A swift grin accompanying the thought, he started yanking off the pale brown work-shirt and pants he had, revealing a simple contraption that had provided him the beer-belly crucial to his character. It slid off effortlessly, and Jarod tossed it to the side, unconcerned that anyone would find it or what they might make of it. He wanted the Center to know that he had taken the child out its control, wanted them to understand that he would not stand by and watch as they did to other kids what they had done to him for thirty years, and took pleasure in the fact that the very skills they attempted to exploit would now be used against them.

Unhindered by the need to play the role of Doug the electrician any longer, he stripped himself of the trappings of the character to reveal a slim black outfit made up of a black long-sleeved shirt and pants that gloved itself to his frame, allowing easy maneuvering through the air vents.

He turned to the leather bag he had brought with him, reaching into it and grabbing a metal case. Moving towards the pale-blue door that was the only outside entry to the control room, he slid to his knees in front of it and popped open the industrial-metal case he held in his right hand. Placing it by his side, he grabbed the doorknob and began to carefully twine a line of black-red wire around it. After completing three resolutions he reached towards the case and brought out a small black box. Unadorned with any words or insignia, it simply had two tiny light-bulbs, green and red, which were at the moment unlit.

His hands sure and confident, fingers not for a moment pausing, forehead creased in concentration and jaw clenched with the effort it took to keep his movements quick but quiet, he placed the smaller box beneath the door-knob, the pre-placed adhesive sticking completely to the wood surface and began to fit the end of the wire around the trigger at the top of the compact box.

The green light blinked on, like a beacon in the darkness.

The radius of the explosion would barely escape the corridor directly outside the control room, and would likely only knock out those in the immediate vicinity for a couple of minutes. But the confusion in its aftermath, the pandemonium that would erupt as affluent Center clients standing around in the lobby had their worlds rocked literally for what would be bare seconds, would be more than enough to keep a quick response from being initiated.

Moving away from the door, Jarod stepped towards the control booth, his eyes scanning the myriad of buttons, controls and screens that bombarded him. His mind catalogued and dismissed what was significant and what was not.

Reaching behind him, he took out what looked like a screwdriver to an average onlooker but instead was an effective laser pointer developed by Army intelligence that allowed him to disintegrate the screws that held down a plate of metal beside the blinking neon control points that signified the sensors along the air vents in the Center were working, as well as select cameras along those same vents.

Flipping his laser pointer over, he pressed softly, allowing it to reveal a small but efficient wire cutter. Swiftly he disengaged the sensors, and reaching into his mouth, pulled out the nicotine gum he had placed there earlier. Bending closer to the wires, his movement allowing a soft halo of light to rest upon his inclined head and picking up on the gleam of his eyes as he worked, he placed the gum along the one thick carbon-based wire that led to the entire slew of controls for cameras situated in the vents. The only camera they had to worry about was along the main air-vent leading away from SL-25 towards their escape, and Jarod wanted that to last as long as possible which was why he was utilizing the gum but he also did not want to isolate his escape route by only disengaging a single camera. Activated by the enzymes in Jarod's saliva, the distinct chemicals in the gum had begun to oxidize and it took approximately twenty minutes for the gum to turn into a chemical that would begin to slowly but steadily eat away at the wires. Harmless to humans, but deadly to carbon and metal.

Grinning widely, Jarod stood back and admired his handiwork.

"Phase one. Complete," he whispered, remembering the phrase from a tv show he watched once.

Knowing he had less than ten seconds left allocated to his time in the control room, Jarod moved swiftly to the main air-vent in the room. Crouching down he lifted his hand and pointed the small laser pointer towards the two large screws bolting it to the wall.

**1850 HOURS**

"Damn it!"

Parker's shoes were going to be a problem.

She had left her office twenty minutes ago, made her way to the elevator and deliberately jammed her thumb into the "open doors" button, waiting until the entire elevator was full. She had given a quick assessing glance at those surrounding her, noticing a tall, gangly computer tech to her left.

As the doors opened on a new level and a couple of people stepped out, she took a casual step till she stood behind him, allowing his height to conceal her presence from the elevator camera. At SL-17, she knew she could not wait any longer to exit the elevator since the number of occupants were beginning to decrease rapidly, she waited till the last large group made to exit, thankfully excluding the un-moving oblivious computer technician, and slipped through the elevator doors.

She kept to the wall, her head down, her hair covering most of her face. Having left both her briefcase and bag in the elevator, her hands were unencumbered, allowing her to move quickly towards the stairwell door. She did not look around to watch if anyone noticed her, she did not give a thought as to whether her ploy worked. She did not have the time, and every second in the possible view of cameras could mean being noticed.

The stairwell she entered was an old service stairwell, rarely used now that a new one had been modeled and built at the center of the building, all the offices artfully revolving around it. There were no cameras here, all having been decommissioned years ago and used to line the new staircase. Waste not, want not.

She had 6 floors to go and little time left. Pressing one hand against the side-pocket of the two-piece suit jacket and pants she wore, she felt the reassuring weight of a thumb-drive as she took the steps two to three at a time. But her sturdy boots, the heel thick and heavy still made a distinct clap as it hit each stair. While it might go un-noticed in this stairwell, Parker would have to be moving quickly and quietly when she reached SL- 25. Making a decision quickly, she stopped and slipped both boots off, revealing slim tan socks underneath. Barely a breath later she was moving down the stairs again.

**1853 HOURS – SL 25**

Jarod had been in the vents for a little over six minutes. After moving away from the control booth, he had made quick time in reaching the time-worn ladder that would take him down to SL-25. Reaching the floor in question, he only had to take one quick survey of the several exits from the central vent before he moved towards the one that would lead him to the corridor he needed. His clothes were covered in a thick layer of dust and grime but his focus was on continuously moving forward, so he was unconcerned.

Reaching the end of the vent, he stared through the slanted metal blinds at the corridor through which Angelo's son would be led through on his way back to his living quarters for the night. Effortlessly, he shifted and maneuvered his body till he sat with his back against one wall of the vent he was in, his legs curled up and feet resting against the opposite wall. He knew he would have to move with force once the boy came into sight, but he had a couple of minutes till Parker was supposed to loop-image the corridor cameras.

**1857 HOURS**

One hand pressed against the wood of the stairwell door, she pushed it gently open and kept her eyes peeled for the camera she knew would be situated in the corner. Her breath hitched as she spotted it just as it was swiveling towards the stairwell door. She brought the door closed swiftly, her forehead falling to rest on it as she counted off the seconds in her mind.

_One, two, three, four.._

As 'four' just about began to fade, Parker pushed at the door, allowing just enough space for her body to slide through. Keeping her gaze fixed to the revolving camera, sinister in its movement back towards her, she lunged the remaining steps to the pale-blue door that had on it in bold stark letters the label "Security". Jerking the handle of the door downward, she pushed it open and slid through the gap, pressing her back against it quickly to ensure it closed in the same second it took her to enter. Her back against the door, her chest rose and fell as she took in a deep breath, enough to calm her nerves as she allowed the black curtain that was the darkness in the room to fall over her in a comforting embrace.

But there was little time for comfort, Parker knew that. She had less than a minute to loop the camera. Her eyes springing open, her sock-covered feet sliding quietly against the cement floor, the movement like soft whispers in the darkness, her hand plunging into her pocket, she yanked out the thumb-drive that was resting within it and headed straight for the computer console she needed. She knew enough about Center security after all these years to realize the ins-and-outs of its system. One quick plunge of her index finger on a button brought into focus on the small screen the image of the corridor. She let out a small sigh as she saw no one entering the corridor yet. She slid the thumb-drive into place, watching as it quickly loaded and stepping back as she saw the image of the corridor flicker for barely an instant before the loop-image began to play.

Her eyes glued to the screen, Parker stood in the glow of its rays, her hair alight in murky white rays from the gray and white that made up the image before her. For a moment she could not move, the relief that swept through her did not show on her face, but it did show in the hand that she brought to her face, resting the back of it against the soft skin of her mouth as she took in another shaky deep breath.

_I'm definitely losing my touch.._

* * *

_A/N: Don't stop yet, there's one more chapter!! _


	14. Keep Running and Never Look Back Part 3

Disclaimer: Refer to Chapter 1..

Keep Running, Chapter 14

Keep Running and Never Look Back Part 3

**1900 HOURS**

"You are not to attempt to communicate with those who serve you your meal do you hear me? _Especially _not in front of Mr Lyle. That kind of behaviour _will not_ be tolerated!"

The statuesque blond in a full-white uniform bit the words out, rage and frustration born of indignity suffered forcing her to resort to physical means to emphasize her command. The talon of a hand wrapped around the four-year old's upper arm was jerked painfully a number of times to emphasize the words spoken close to his ear.

The boy did not respond. His eyes sailed across the white walls of the corridor he traveled in every day, one hand coming up to allow his palm to slide along the cool cement while the rest of his body seemed to be angled up towards his handler since she still had a strong hold of his other arm.

His feet shuffled against the floor, barely able to keep up with the strides of the woman that never showed him compassion, only viewing him as a possession, an object to be utilized and exploited. As a toddler, the child used to make his way over to her, the only female presence in his little world, but his attempts at gaining affection and human contact were always spurned, with hard words and even harder shoves.

After three days, the toddler had stopped moving to her and had stopped crying.

Exactly the objective of those supervising him.

A hard knock on his right heel caused the boy to trip, and it was only the tight hold his handler had of him by the upper arm that kept him from falling. He did not glance back at the sweeper whose boot had knocked the back of his heel, these men were always watching him but they had never harmed him intentionally. They just watched. 

The boy began to hum, trying to drown out the world around him with the soft notes, his eyes on the skinny dark cracks running along the wall they passed, counting them and tracking them as if they led to another world untouched by those in this.

It was why the boy did not notice any changes in his surroundings until he felt himself being hurled roughly against the wall he had been staring at so ardently. He waited dumbly for his head to crack sickeningly against the unforgiving cement but before that could happen, a hand appeared and cushioned his head with warm human touch.

Jarod had watched as the group of three approached his position inside the vent. At the sound of voices and shuffling footsteps, he had tensed, a shot of energy pulsing through him instantly, but it was the words of the female and the painful hold he saw she had on the little boy's arm that had caused his fists to clench and his lips to curl in what he knew was a burning hatred for the injustice he saw.

He allowed the woman and the child to pass, it was as the sweeper passed underneath him that he erupted from his hiding space. In one hard shove, the grate came flying off, aimed directly at the sweepers face and making contact with a hard metallic thwack that caused the broad-shouldered man to fall back against the wall, his hand reaching for his gun but not successful in retrieving it. His body slumped, unconscious.

By that time, Jarod had landed on his feet, his boots coming to rest on the ground in a controlled thump.

He spun towards the handler, his eyes hard and unforgiving.

Still in shock, the woman was staring down at the sweeper lying on the ground before her eyes slowly came up to meet his.

Jarod did not make a move, giving her only a small smile that had in it no amusement and no kindness.

It was enough to catalyze the blond to make a move and as she turned to run, she shoved the boy roughly away, as if he was luggage she could not afford to have impeding her escape from the mad man. Her soft-soled shoes scrambling to gain ground, she opened her mouth to let out a scream that she hoped would get sweepers in the vicinity to come to her aid.

Before she had even taken in a breath, Jarod had already lunged for the boy. One hand wrapped around his small torso, the other grabbed at his head to keep it from making contact with the wall. One quick spin, his arms around the boy, his legs moving with determination and unleashed force, it gave him the momentum to fall to his side as he spun, one leg outstretched and knocking the legs out from beneath the woman. As she fell, he brought himself up onto his knees and settled the boy in front of him.

Shell-shocked, the boy simply stared at Jarod, his hands hanging limply at his sides but breaths coming in hard, fast pants.

Jarod wanted to smile, to give the boy the reassurance he needed that his motives at erupting into his life was not to hurt him but to get him as far from the Center as possible. But he could barely take in a breath himself at the shock at seeing such a stark resemblance to Timmy, the child that Angelo once had been. The grief and the memories had what felt like a choke-hold on his heart, and all he could do was stare at the boy.

"Don't even think about it."

Jarod's attention jerked away at the soft words spoken in a tone that brooked no argument and threatened death. He looked up to see Parker as she stood over the child's handler as the latter attempted to leverage herself up from the hard fall she had taken, gun at the ready and legs spread to accommodate her stance. Parker had a lethal grin on her face, red lips stretching away to reveal teeth clenched and Jarod actually felt pride swell in his chest as he stared up at her over the boy's shoulder. It was an emotion he felt uncomfortable with, but it could not be helped, it overtook him and confounded his senses. Letting his eyes take a slow run of her, her tight black jacket hinting at her curves and long, _long_ legs molded by material that stretched as she bent to whisper in the woman's face a snarl of "stay down", he could not help the huge grin that broke across his face, full of joy and mischief.

"What happened to your shoes, Parker?"

His tone made clear that he was barely holding his laughter in check.

Parker jerked her head up to look at him, her shoulders tensed and her gun still pointed at the handler. The handler, eyes wide and terrified, recognized Miss Parker and let out a gasp of shock. Before she had a chance to say a word, Miss Parker, her eyes instead locked on Jarod's the entire time, brought the butt of her gun down on the head of the blond woman whom she had watched from a distance shove the child away with such cruelty.

Straightening up, she observed the well of amusement in Jarod's eyes as he took a quick glance at her sock-covered feet, vulnerable in their present state, and felt her jaw tighten.

"You want one of these?" she snapped, her gun motioning at the woman crumpled at her feet, her eyebrows arching up.

"Cranky, are we?" his smile growing wider, he told himself to stop teasing her, and more importantly that this was not the time or place, but he really could not help himself, and neither could he resist what the strong swell of emotion in his chest was making him do.

Parker opened her mouth to gift him with a stinging retort about her foot up a certain appendage, but the movement of a small, dark hair-covered head turning towards her forestalled her. Brown-green eyes, with a world-weariness and emptiness that made Parker's heart ache to look at, settled upon her and for a moment she wondered where the fear and pain she had seen in those same eyes a few days ago had gone, and who had forced them to disappear.

Jarod watched her as her gaze focused on the boy's, whose shoulders he still held in his hand, and the way her hair framed her face, its waves soft and gentle as it curved against the sides, and how her eyes seemed to fill with empathy, grief, pain - emotions she knew all too well.

"Hi," she whispered, her heart reaching out to the child. Taking a step towards him, she brought herself down to one knee, her other knee up, her right hand and gun resting limply off it, her eyes fixed on his. 

The boy stared at her for a moment after she spoke, before he simply took a step away from Jarod, and the hands that had held him in its warm grasp for all this time, and moved towards Parker.

Parker felt alarm and confusion hit her like a brunt force, and her eyes leaped to Jarod's, instinctively looking to him for answers. If she had been conscious of what she had done, she would have been pissed at herself, but for now this unexpected turn of events had tipped her axis and she was grappling for some control.

Jarod eyes moved from watching the boy to the look of utter terror in Parker's eyes. He had no answer to give her, no way to predict the reactions of the boy he had just met himself.

The boy stopped, one side of his torso pressing against the lifted knee and the arm that rested upon it, seeking the warmth and human contact that he had been deprived of for so long. One small pudgy hand rose, the fingers plump and awkward, but his eyes were sure and arrested by hers. Two fingers came to rest on the Parker's cheek, the touch tentative and yearning.

Watching the two of them, Jarod felt a surge of protectiveness so strong it took his breath away. It was the innocence of the gesture and the simple elemental connection that it built between two individuals so starved of real honest human connections that tore at his soul but firmed his resolve to get both the child and Parker away from the Center.

As if the fates played with him, it was at that very moment that Jarod heard the distinct sound of a gun being cocked, his instincts picking it up from the silence that had enveloped most of the corridor. Scrambling to get at Parker and child, even as he heard the whistle of a bullet passing overhead, he tackled both of them to the floor, tucking them into the curve of his body, arms wrapped tightly around both while his back deliberately faced the shooter.

His heartbeat and the corresponding rush of blood was like a tempest in his ears, but his focus was on the two bodies he held clutched to his heart.

"Run!" he yelled into Parker's ear as he came up swiftly onto his knees, swiftly sliding forward to cover their retreat, one hand already reaching into the holster pressed at his side and jerking out his gun. A hi-powered Browning 9 millimeter, it was comparable to Parker's except for Jarod's own modifications to increase its magnum capacity and add a sighted barrel.

In a split second, the gun was up, pointing at the corner where he knew the shooter had ducked behind, his head tilted to the side as he gazed down the barrel sights before he let off one shot, another one, watching as the bullets thunked into the concrete, and as splintered bits of the material flew off, like shrapnel spinning through the air.

Parker did not bother to argue with Jarod. While the muscles in her back jerked as she heard the sound of two distinct gun shots, she did not turn to look at him, to check if he was still alive, her priority was the child. His small body tucked under her arm like a football, she sprinted for the turn of the corridor that would take them to the grate leading to their main escape route.

Even as she whipped around the corridor, hair flying, feet slipping against the smooth material of the floor, her heart thumping a mile a minute in a chest that felt too fragile to withstand it, she was placing the child onto his feet and turning him to face her, bending down to gain eye contact.

"Listen to me! I want you sit here behind me, and cover your ears alright?" pointing to a spot a safe distance behind her in the corridor she assured herself was empty, at least for now. She looked to see if he understood her, "I will be right back okay?". She placed one palm against the side of his head, as if the warmth of the palm could provide him with the reassurance he needed.

The boy just looked at her, and Parker was not sure if he did not understand her or perhaps could not speak. His eyes, so much like Angelo's, stared into hers, his small frame trembling slightly within her hands even as his face remained impassive, unchanged, as if distinct from his body. But then he began to move, stepping to the spot she had indicated, sinuously folding himself up into a ball, before tucking his hands around his ears as she had instructed. But his eyes remained fixed on her.

Parker stared at him, feeling a deep uneasiness growing within her, but she willfully pushed it aside as she heard a third set of gunshots erupting from the corridor she had just escaped from.

_Where the hell had all these sweepers come from?!_

Her head wanted to track her past movements, to isolate where she had made the blunder that now endangered three lives, but the atmosphere around her, the smell of fear and of courage, centered her concentration and her entire body tensed along with her determination.

Her heart leaping at the thought of Jarod out in the open, Parker pressed her back against the wall just around the corner, taking one deep breath before whipping around it, the gun that she had grabbed along with the child coming up and letting off three quick shots into the distance, just enough to give her time to assess the situation.

Jarod, fool that he was, had grabbed the blond woman Parker had clubbed the daylights out off and had dragged her to the alcove created by a doorway. It was scant cover at best, made even more useless by involving the unconscious woman in the equation, but the pretender was making the most use of the skills he had learned thus far. His shots were dead on, keeping the sweepers back by either injuring them or heaping upon them enough fire-power to keep them from moving out of their hiding places to take constant shots at him. But while his eyes were hard and fixed on the task, Parker saw a small pale hole in the right sleeve of his black sweater, and how the area around it gleamed a darker black. The injury did not slow him down, it seemed he had blocked out any pain, or perhaps it was the adrenaline, but the knowledge that he was injured caused Parker's nostrils to flare and her stance to firm as she focused her rage on the sweepers.

Jarod heard and saw the shots come from somewhere further down the corridor, and he cursed Parker for her obstinacy while somewhere deep in his consciousness he knew his heart warmed at the idea that she had his back in this fight. Leveraging the handler's body further away from him, he pushed himself up, his frame pressed against the wall protecting him, his gaze tracking a tall blond-haired sweeper that was attempting to inch forward down the corridor. One shot had the man screaming and dropping his gun, his other hand clutching at a blood-soaked gun-hand that would be out of commission for a long time.

He saw two other sweepers, their frames well-hidden in doorway alcoves of their own but even as he took aim to attempt to draw them out, a bullet whizzed past him and hit the stocky Chinese one in the right shoulder, his arm whipping back, his face settling into a tight grimace, eyes screwed shut, mouth open in a pained yell. Before he could help it, a small smile graced his lips, but it was then Jarod saw the remaining sweeper attempt to dodge out of the alcove to sight Parker and take aim. A smile turning into a snarl, his next shot hit its mark, the revolver the sweeper had been clutching flew out of its hands and skidded to a stop several feet away.

Jarod waited for ten second, his eyes continuously scanning the remaining corridor within his sights before he swiftly slipped out of the alcove, striding towards the fallen sweeper he had just shot at who was clutching at his gun-hand and staring up at Jarod with little-veiled hatred. Before he could make a move, Jarod bent and gave him a punch that literally knocked him out. Positioned at the upper side of his head, the impact caused the blood vessels to instinctively contract, reducing significantly the amount of oxygen that traveled there, rendering the individual unconscious.

Jarod did not linger. He pushed away from the fallen sweeper, glanced at Parker who remained where she was, gun hand up and covering his movements from anything unexpected. One finger up, he motioned for her to wait there while he moved towards the three other sweepers. Turning the corner, Jarod saw the first sweeper he had shot in the neck. Unconscious from the impact and the loss of blood, prompt surgery would save him. A swift knock to the head rendered the squirming blond-haired sweeper a few feet away similary unconscious. Jarod should have felt no compunction at killing sweepers, but he resisted having blood on his hands. Enough blood had been shed because of him.

_Wait. There were four.._

He turned to search for the one remaining sweeper, his eyes flitting across the different alcoves and corners attempting to track his movements. His breath stalled, a growing panic clutching at his chest as he followed a trail of blood away from the corridor, moving fast and towards escape. Escape meant reinforcements and it was that that sent Jarod spinning back towards Parker, his intention to get all of them away from SL-25 _now_.

Shock was like a large hard fist pummeling into his chest, the force so strong and potent he could not take in a breath, could not understand his thoughts as they spun and raged through his brain, the images of death and horrifying pain tearing at him.

"What did you think, Jarod? That we would not see this coming?"

* * *

A/N: Do I deserve a choccy for my work, or must I force myself to eat my broccoli tonight as punishment? Tell me!! 


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